Corruption
by Pagan Strega
Summary: A little dark, not very much fluff, slightly angsty. Werewolf plot device, but not with Remus! Slash, of course, and HPB compliant.
1. Initiation

Harry Potter knew quite a few things. But at this particular moment, what he knew most importantly came down to three things only.

That Albus Dumbledore had indeed been wrong to trust Severus Snape with so much as a grocery list, never mention his life or the safety of the students.

That Lord Voldemort had been raised in a Christian orphanage and was familiar with the phrase 'The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.' That was a long story.

That, had Harry ever considered how his life would end, good or bad, he would not have foreseen this.

There was a collar around his neck, and it had been there for three days. He hadn't had food or water for the same length of time, and it was beginning to seriously weaken him. The collar was a seamless ring of dragonhide, black, and despite every effort Harry had not been able to so much as get the edge to fray. It was magically leashed to a short metal stake buried in the center of the chamber he was held in, which was just as resistant to Harry's efforts as the collar.

At the moment, he was leaning against the nearest wall, about three yards distant from the stake. The sun was barely glimmering above the western horizon, minutes from disappearing. Harry knew this because the chamber he was in seemed to have been an outdoor, covered pool at one time, but the ceiling had decayed and most of the large stone tiles were gone, letting in the fading sunlight. There were few other things to look at. The steps at one end were bare, he was too far from the surface to see anything at ground level except a few trees, and though he knew there were guards posted nearby, they stayed out of sight.

The only other thing to see was Remus Lupin. He had a similar collar around his neck, also impervious to any effort to remove it, though his was tied to a stake at the other end of the pool. He was in much worse shape than Harry. In fact, had he not been a werewolf and stronger than a wizard, he would have been dead some time before. Both arms were broken, and the terrible slices made with cutting hexes were open and infected; he was conscious, but silent. They had given up talking, said their goodbyes and last apologies, hours before.

Harry blinked as a wave of dizziness caught him by surprise. He shifted, cradling one arm over his broken ribs as he did so. These, surprisingly enough, were not the work of Death Eaters. Vernon Dursley was not to blame. Neither was his son Dudley. Actually, it had been Petunia Evans Dursley, Harry's last living blood relation, who had taken her rolling pin and smashed it into his side over and over until the bones cracked and splintered under the force. She had been driven mad with grief when she found her husband and son dead, Harry standing over their bodies. Unfortunately for her, nearly killing Harry had been her last act on earth. Harry had been mostly healed and treated for the rest of the injuries he'd gotten during their capture, only to be put out here to die.

The light was completely gone now. It was still summer so he wouldn't freeze to death, but that, of course, wasn't his concern in the first place. Harry turned his head gingerly to the east, wondering how long it would be before the moon rose into view. Remus, staked closer to the shallow end of the pool, would see it first, as was intended. In little time, Harry would be seeing the last of his former professor when Moony took over.

It wasn't the first time he would be witnessing the transformation since they had been captured. Tonight was the third and last night of the full moon, and they had been down here for both previous nights. Remus had not been healed of any of his self-inflicted wounds, but then again, he had not been too rough on himself. Moony had been more interested in the human staked so close to him.

Voldemort was a cruel and sadistically clever man. At first, their collars were set at the same length – ten yards each. During the first full moon Moony had pulled and snapped at the furthest reach of his collar, growling at Harry who was likewise as far as he could get away from the werewolf. But the next night, Harry's leash had been shortened and Remus' lengthened so there was barely a yard between the werewolf and boy. Even knowing Moony couldn't reach him Harry had reacted on an instinctive level against the maddened werewolf, terrified out of his mind until the moon set at last.

And today, as they already knew, there was no chance for Harry to escape. His leash had been shortened to just over three yards, and Moony's was over twenty. Remus had not had anything to eat or drink, either, so they both knew Harry did not need to fear being turned into a werewolf tonight.

His ears unwillingly perked at the sound of soft sobs. Harry looked up, long since resigned to his fate, to see Remus was now easier to spot. Moonlight.

While Harry turned his head away from his friend's pain, the sobs began morphing into cries then screams and finally, growls. He couldn't help but look toward the werewolf as Moony raised his head and howled loud and echoing in the night. Faint howls answered over the hills.

The yellow eyes lowered from the moon's sight and turned unerringly toward Harry. He found himself wondering, not for the first time, whether Voldemort would kill Remus right away or let him live in agony for a while instead. Harry had no doubt which would be the crueler end, so it was easy to guess Remus would be left chained in the pool with his own corpse to keep him company.

This was not really a time for wondering. Moony leapt forward, starved with hunger and maddened by the moon, slavering jowls open and ready to tear. Harry wished, quick and hard, that Remus would be able to control Moony enough to kill him with the first bite.

Suddenly Harry looked up. He felt his scar burning, caught a glimpse of red fire and skull whiteness against the night, before his vision was blocked with gray fur stretched over straining flesh. Despite his resolution to let death take him, his body took over and he tried to lunge away.

Pain erupted in his stomach and leg and he cried out, instantly on alert to twin snarls, the snap of teeth, thud of flesh against flesh. When nothing more happened to him Harry opened his clenched eyelids and looked down. There were long scratches in his abdomen, more on his legs, but no bites, no flesh missing.

He stared as the umber-gray Moony went down under a burnt pewter wolf even larger than the last Marauder. The two werewolves broke apart, snarling, teeth bared, then Moony lunged with fierce speed only to be turned away and sent rolling across the ground with a high-pitched yelp and spray of blood.

Harry's mind left him and base instinct flooded up, making him tear and yank at his collar with the two wolves distracted. He dared not look up to see the master of puppets standing at the edge of the pool, knowing if he did Voldemort would make this even more agonizing than it already was.

There was no time. His fingers slipped in sweat and blood and still the collar wouldn't come off. Dark amber eyes turned to him and Harry scrambled back, pulling against the invisible chain with his entire body, straining until his heels and back bled.

The large wolf leapt, one huge paw throwing Harry's shoulder into the ground with a sickening crack and yellowed teeth descended –

Blinding agony exploded from his shoulder. Harry screamed, tossing his whole body backward in a final futile attempt to get away even as sharp fangs dug deep and ripped free again. Blackness deeper than any night descended but he wasn't free to unconsciousness; he was blind but heard the growl and cry of the two wolves fighting again, felt fire, pain and blood racing from his shoulder to the rest of his body.

His bones snapped, muscles ripped and his organs contorted; the tortured screams that filled the sky descended in pitch until, with a final wrench his spine snapped in twain and all was silent.

Moony whined, falling silent again when the larger wolf snapped at him. They were both still for a long time before the alpha raised his head and howled, loud voice ringing around the pool. He was joined by Moony, then weakly, a third howl.

Harry's mind was a prisoner in his skull as a voice that was not his in a body that was not his own forced out a howl in response to the alpha's call. His vision was dancing with black spots and he could barely register the movement as he rolled to his knees and elbows, then shakily to his four feet.

Everything hurt … no, everything screamed at him in pain. The alpha was coming closer again. He tried to move away but his limbs were too weak, perhaps broken, he could only shuffle and whimper. The alpha snarled and he dropped back to the ground, neck exposed, still bleeding from the bite.

He cried out in agony as the lycan bit him again, crouched over him, pain pounding in his shoulder and back and – oh god not there … For a moment he suffered the anguish of being forced open, impaled on the alpha's cock before real darkness descended and all was gone.



When Harry next achieved consciousness – though he had expected to never wake again – it was slow and painful. He was first aware, past the dull edge of pain that came from everywhere and nowhere, that he was parched and his eyelids felt heavy, sanded, and glued shut.

Hearing came next, probably because there was actually something to hear.

"Break … let him die…. I cannot…" the voice faded in and out, and Harry knew vaguely that he was missing parts.

"What about Lupin?" Harry tried, he really did, to listen to the answer, wondering what had happened suddenly where he had not before.

"…Dark creature, he will be – " more muttering, "Follower."

Harry felt the dryness in his throat and mouth the most annoying thing, once the voices had stopped and he had nothing to listen for. He tried moving his tongue to moisten it but even that felt like a glob of dry cotton.

He must have made some sign or noise, probably of frustration, because a moment later there was a hand on his arm – reminding him that arm had been broken and not healed – before a trickle of liquid ran over his lips.

A new voice entered, sharper and more acidic than either of the two before. "You'll have to pry open his jaw first, he can't drink on his own yet."

Accordingly, something forced his lips and teeth apart and blessed, cool water dripped into his mouth. It flowed slow but constantly and he had to swallow five or six times before it stopped grating in his throat. The tingle of magic swept across his face feeling like a damp cloth and someone peeled open one of his eyes.

He jerked at the sudden influx of light and snapped his eye shut. Something growled.

"There's nothing wrong with him that a day of rest won't fix. Here, give him this one." Harry was able to open his own mouth to accept a wash of liquid, strongly mint flavored and thick, before more water came. "Not too much water, he hasn't had enough to eat and those potions need to stay down or they won't work. Here, now this one."

Harry lay compliant as a number of potions he stopped counting after four were poured down his throat … some pleasant and some rotten. Finally it seemed to be over and he was allowed more water to wash the last of the taste away.

He felt no need to open his eyes or so much as twitch when he was picked up and shifted around. Something plucked lightly at his throbbing shoulder and he heard cloth hitting the ground as the bandage was removed. Again more growling, distinctly dangerous this time.

"Fine, apply it yourself. A thick layer, make sure all of the cuts are covered."

Harry felt something prick his skin, heard a muttered 'bloody hell', then cold glop was dropped on his shoulder. It felt good at first, soothing the hot ache of the wound before cold fire, like raw ice on skin, replaced the glop and began to sear off his flesh. He tried to cry out and roll away but only managed a whimper.

"Nothing else?" one of the first voices asked, when the freezing flames had died back and he was being shifted to wrap a new bandage around his shoulder.

"No, the nutrition potion will suffice until he can eat on his own. Dim down the lights and don't let him reopen those wounds; the potions can only heal so much. Sleep will do the rest."

The tinkle of glass vials clinking together accompanied this instruction. Soon Harry could detect the swish of cloth and stamp of feet getting further away, more than one set. Someone remained with him, though, long enough to roll him onto his uninjured side. Lassitude began to drag him toward sleep again – probably one of the potions – and he sighed into the heat as a thick blanket covered him.



The second awakening was a bit more difficult; Harry remembered almost nothing from the first except a lot of gross potions going down his throat and not being able to open his eyes or mouth on his own.

This time he tried blinking and met with success, taking in the sight of a somewhat blurry, dark room with the only light seeping around the thick curtains on the window. As he began to wake more, he started testing his limbs for injuries, wiggling his toes and fingers, stretching his back.

His shoulder still stung, but it was far from the nearly paralyzing pain it had radiated before. The rest of him was sore yet unhurt as far as he could tell. He also had an empty stomach, a full bladder, a heavy headache and he was far warmer than usual. He shifted the heavy blanket off him and rolled off the bed, taking a few stumbling steps before his legs obeyed and he managed to walk semi-normally toward the open door that showed a bathroom beyond.

He managed to grab a towel and wet the edge before flipping up the toilet lid and pissing. He ran the damp cloth over his face and neck, feeling it clear away sleep grime and dust from the past few days. Merlin, how long had he been out for?

Brain not quite yet awake, he flushed the toilet and went over to the sink, rinsing out his mouth a few times before putting his mouth under the faucet and drinking. He considered the bathtub, but he was still feeling rather weak-limbed and he wanted to get back to bed and nap a little longer.

It was as he got back into the room that the muck of sleep and injury finally cleared from his mind and he realized the current situation did not fit with his last memory. He looked down at his chest at touched the remnants of the claw marks on his abdomen. Ignoring his lack of clothing or weakened body, he took off for the only other door in the room and twisted the handle.

"Won't be gettin' out that way, kid," same a rough voice from behind him. Harry spun around, plastering himself to the door. He didn't know that voice, but he recognized the face that was smirking at him from the bed. Fenrir Greyback. Oh god. He pulled and wrenched at the door but it wouldn't budge.

Greyback climbed out of the blankets with a lot more surety than Harry had, striding over to the frantic young man in only a few steps and picking him up as if he weighed nothing. He tossed Harry back onto the bed and, when Harry tried to use the momentum to climb off the other side, growled at him.

Harry froze then scrunched up, curling his legs and arms together. Greyback flipped back the blanket and lay down as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening.

"You had a bad change for your first time," he said roughly. "Snape and Pomfrey had a hard time holding you together afterwards." Harry tensed even more when the man's thick arm wrapped around his back and pulled him up against a broad, furred chest. He immediately tried to move away but Fenrir growled, low and sharp and he stayed in place, shaking now. "You still hurt anywhere?"

Harry shook his head and then put a hand to his throbbing forehead. Greyback's free hand gripped his hair and tugged until he was looking up at the older man, though he was focused on Harry's scar.

"He can send you pain anytime he wants, but Lord Voldemort won't have you killed now. You're more valuable alive than dead."

Harry's shoulders hunched slightly, "What happened to Remus?" his voice was rougher than usual and it hurt to talk.

Fenrir growled at him enough to make Harry lower his gaze and turn his head so his neck, and his bite scar, were exposed. "Lupin's recovering, slowly." He said at last. "Lord Voldemort hasn't decided whether to let him live yet."

Harry blinked at the man's arm. It was bare of the Dark Mark, how…? Without conscious thought he reached out to touch the skin, noticing faded scars littered the tanned flesh but no skull and snake.

Greyback noticed the direction of his attention and snorted, "I don't need his Mark, I follow because he delivers what he promises freedom for werewolves without the Ministry's restrictions."

Harry squirmed, uncomfortably aware that he was a werewolf now, too. He was consciously trying not to think too deeply on his situation – what would happen to him, to Remus, how they were going to survive, what everyone else would think when they were discovered missing, the list went on and on.

Greyback's chest rumbled underneath him in a warning sound and Harry went still again. The older werewolf had pulled the blanket back up and he was too warm again – his own skin felt warm, as if he had a fever and Fenrir's was just as hot if not more so.

"Will you stop that squirming!" Greyback growled at him.

"It's too warm," Harry snapped back, immediately regretting it when the hand under his arm started to squeeze his ribs. He gasped in pain and tried not to struggle when he was tossed over on his back.

"Don't whine at me, boy," Fenrir snarled, rising above the smaller male in a crouch, arms and legs caging him in place. "That warmth will keep you from freezing to death even in the winter. I'm not going to punish you like you should be for that, since you're still adjusting." Harry didn't dare breath in relief yet, especially not when Greyback relaxed and settled on top of him. "It will be a week at least before your body's adjusted to everything. You're too skinny," he pressed his hip down on the boy, emphasizing the bony jut of Harry's hip, "but we'll fix that."

Harry was made aware by this that they were both still naked, Greyback's prick was half-hard against his stomach, and though he recoiled mentally from the thought, his body wasn't protesting. He remembered the brutal invasion of his body from the last night of the full moon but he couldn't fight against the wolf inside or Greyback's strength when he moved his legs between Harry's own and nipped his tender bite scar.

"You're not a human anymore," he growled, rubbing his body full-length over Harry's and grinning ferally at the shiver it produced. "Your wolf knows me, knows its alpha and its mate," No! Harry tried to protest but it was weak in his voice and nearly lost under Greyback's words. "You aren't a human, you won't act like a human … if you try it will only make this much harder on you. You are a were. _My _were." Harry whined at the last words, his consciousness retreating when he couldn't control his body's actions any more now than he had been able to after being turned.

Fenrir smirked and bit his shoulder a little harder, producing a twinge of pain and a reaction from Harry at last. With his wolf now in charge he titled his head back to give the alpha proof of his submission. Fenrir moved his hands all over the younger male's warm body, rumbling his pleasure at every small movement that showed the pup was enjoying his attention. He licked at Harry's mouth in reward when his hands hesitantly slid up Fenrir's arms.

Harry fought against the physical pleasure but his wolf wouldn't let him disobey the alpha. He wanted to cover his ears to block out the small sounds he was making, but it was taking all his willpower just to remain as still as he was and not actually reach out for Fenrir.

He was doubly tested as heated palms swept over his hips, titling him to the right angle so that when Greyback pushed down their dicks brushed together. Harry bit his lip to hold back a moan, shivering in response to the growl Fenrir gave in pleasure.

(Edited for Content)

He was trembling too hard to remain upright. Fenrir merely laughed, lowering both their bodies back to the bed and curling around the smaller male.

"Sleep for now, pup, we'll finish this later."



It was only a few hours later when a house elf popped into the room with a tray of food and three potions vials carefully balanced next to a note. Since Harry was still asleep Fenrir took the food, smirking when the elf squeaked in fear and popped away instantly. He easily plucked the note off the tray without disturbing the trio of potions and read over Severus' instructions. 'The blue one before he eats anything, then the red with food, the yellow just before sleep.'

Snorting over the potions master's curtness even in a note, he set it aside and put the tray down at the end of the bed before turning to wake the boy. Harry snuffled and growled low at him when Fenrir shook his shoulder, not even halfway waking. Shrugging, he picked up a plate of chicken and began to eat, knowing it wouldn't be long.

The aroma of the food got to Harry even in his dreams and he woke up to find himself gnawing on the edge of his pillow. He spat out the cloth, twisting around and squinting to see what had changed. Outer door still closed and locked; Fenrir Greyback still beside him in the bed; various aches and pains from the full moon and his first hours awake in where-ever-he-was. But the food, that was new. He sat up, not looking directly at the werewolf beside him and reached for a tempting plate of hamburger mash.

"Your first lesson," growled Fenrir, making Harry freeze in place, "is that you do not take anything from me without my permission."

Harry took back his arm, glaring at the older man as he scooted himself back against the headboard. Fenrir handed him a bottle of sky-blue potion and snapped, "Drink." Harry drank.

When nothing more happened, including no permission to eat, he folded his arms over his knees and buried his face. He could go without another meal; he'd certainly done it often enough before. Some time passed, the only sound that of the older werewolf eating and his own breathing. Harry was tortured by the smell of the food, cursing his increased senses as he listened and smelt the food disappearing piece by piece.

Using a trick he had learned at the Dursleys', he went into the bathroom to use the toilet then drank again from the tap, letting it fill his stomach rather than the food he really wanted. Instead of going back to the bed he paused by the window, drawing aside the drapes enough to see it was early morning outside, the sun barely in the sky and no one moving about. He could see a forest not too far off, and in-between the house and the tree line were manicured lawns. They appeared to be on the third floor of the building, with no convenient trees, balconies or even water pipes to climb down on. Not that Harry figured the window would open anyway.

The room itself was fairly featureless. His sight had improved enough to see the bed, the lone chair in front of a cold fireplace, and another small window flanking the bed. That was it. No paintings, no carpet, nothing to pay attention to. Harry turned back to the window. He wondered where Hedwig was, whether the Weasleys had gone into a panic when Harry and Remus hadn't shown up at the wedding – surely it had been a week since they were captured?

It had happened so fast. Harry woke late on his last morning at the Dursley's, made sure his trunk was packed, and headed downstairs. He'd left the trunk by the door and headed for the kitchen, only to pause on his way past the parlor. Usually the television was blaring one of Dudley's programs but all was silent. It sent an odd frission through Harry, who crept into the room with his wand drawn.

He'd been staggered to find Vernon and Dudley Dursley stretched out on the floor, blank eyes staring at the ceiling, expressions of fear on their faces. It was such a familiar position that Harry immediately knew what curse had been used, but he hadn't had time to contemplate it. Petunia had come to investigate the unusual silence, too, only to find Harry with his wand out standing over her family's bodies.

She'd screamed and grabbed her rolling pin and proceded to beat the tar out of Harry. Her screaming had drawn the attention of Remus, who had just Apparated in to collect Harry and take him to Grimmauld Place.

In the confusion none of them had noticed the Death Eaters until it was too late. At the same time Harry and Lupin were being cursed Petunia Dursley joined her husband and son with a quick green flash of light. Harry's injuries had been mostly healed, but Remus … had he gotten worse over the final full moon? Had he even survived?

He glanced at Fenrir. "What's happened to Remus?"

"No idea," the man shrugged nonchalantly, having no trouble hearing Harry though his voice was low and rasped. "I haven't been out of here since the Dark Lord sealed the room Tuesday."

Harry grimaced. Definitely more than a week. How long was he going to be kept in here alone with the older man? He grew frustrated enough to ask.

Fenrir shot him a glare, then nodded to the bed. "Sit down." When Harry hesitated, he growled loudly and spat, "Sit!"

Harry felt his knees weaken right where he was so he quickly moved back to the bed and perched on the edge.

"Eat something."

"Do I have your _permission_?" Harry snapped. He flinched internally, knowing that had been stupid but unable to help rebelling in the only way he seemed capable of.

Fenrir reached out, casually, and took hold of the boy's neck. His hand nearly wrapped around it and it was no trouble for him to drag the smaller body toward him until they were nearly nose-to-nose.

"I won't take your insolence, is that understood?" he waited until the bright green eyes lowered before continuing. "You've got only two choices here, so you'd better decide right now how you want this to go. You can obey me and stay here, fed and warm and eventually you might even be allowed a wand and room to move around the castle. Or, you can piss me off at every turn and get yourself a lot of pain and no better circumstances for your trouble. Eventually Lord Voldemort will have enough and put you down in the torture rooms – you'll be kept alive, but I doubt you'll like it.

"Those are your _only_ choices. If you try to run I will be able to call you back. You have no wand, you're still weak, and trust me when I say that if you try the Dark Lord will not go easy on you. You have no one to run toward who can protect you from either of us." He gave Harry a rough shake, "Understand?"

Harry bit his lip and nodded. Everything the werewolf had said was true, things he had known subconsciously but hadn't wanted to face up to.

"We have one week – long enough for you to learn all the rules and how to act when you're let out. _Now_ you have my permission to eat."

After only a small hesitation he reached blindly for something off the tray. It turned out to be a ham sandwich – Harry gulped it down in barely five bites, already reaching for another before he'd swallowed the first. Fenrir chuckled and leaned back against the headboard, one arm going around the boy's waist and resting, palm open, on his abdomen.

When ten minutes had passed and Harry had begun to slow, Fenrir pulled him back and away from the food. "Drink," said Greyback, handing him the red potion. Harry swallowed the apple in his mouth and took the potion, surprised at the pleasant cherry flavor. He leaned forward to take another warm roll from the plate but the hand against his stomach prevented it. "You've had enough, you'll sick yourself if you stuff in much more." He pressed hard on Harry's skin to make his point, putting uncomfortable pressure on the boy's already full stomach.

Harry had no idea how long they sat there. He was uncomfortable at first, unsure what Fenrir would do and unconsciously tense because of it. Slowly, though, he relaxed with the heat radiating against his back and side and the comfort of a full stomach. He'd eaten too much but when it started to make him nauseous the larger male rubbed his hand across his belly, soothing the ache and almost lulling him back to sleep.

He barely made a sound when Greyback shifted and startled him back to full awareness. Despite his tense, uncooperating limbs the werewolf had no trouble shifting Harry around until he was sitting up, straddling the man's lap. He began to hate how strong Fenrir was compared to him, how he could pick Harry up like a toy and do what he wanted. Some of that showed in his face and Greyback snarled at him.

"Lesson two, boy, I won't take disrespect from you. You mouth off to anyone else, that's their problem and they can deal with it how they see fit – but you will not ever disobey me." Harry looked away, wishing he had his wand or any ability in wandless magic so he could turn some of the fury he was feeling back on the person responsible. Fenrir shook him, hard enough to make his teeth clack together painfully. "You _don't_ want me to have to punish you. Werewolves heal fast and I can do a lot of damage to you without having to worry about you dying. Do you understand?"

Harry glared up at him, unable to actually force his throat to toss the angry words he wanted at the older man so he settled for trying to light him afire with his eyes.

"Fine, we'll do this the hard way first," Greyback growled at him, drawing his knees up as he gripped Harry's arms and forced him to lean back. Not understanding, Harry struggled as much as he could before Fenrir trapped his hands behind his back and squeezed them between the man's hard thighs. He felt the bones of his forearms and wrists creak in protest, trying to draw his legs up and kick the werewolf. "You had it the easy way once," Greyback snarled at him, hands sliding down to Harry's hips and lifting him forward.

Harry froze and then twisted frantically when he felt the blunt head of the alpha's penis pressing against his hole. "No! No, don't!"

"I can make this painful for the rest of your life, puppy. You'll heal and I can keep using you – your pleasure isn't necessary."

(Edited for Content)

They stayed that way for a while, barely moving but to breath and relax tensed muscles. It wasn't long before the scent of Harry and sex got to Greyback and he hardened again. Harry groaned in protest but didn't have the energy or the mental strength to fight as he was turned over and Fenrir loomed above him, still cradled between his thighs.

"Good boy," he grumbled. Tossing one of Harry's legs over his arm Fenrir bit at the boy's shoulder and started thrusting again.



17This is the missing conversation when Harry was semi-conscious.

"We have experienced an unexpected lucky break. I finally see why Dumbledore was so delighted that I had used the boy's blood to revive myself. No, we cannot let him die, I cannot yet be sure I would survive that." Voldemort

"What about Lupin?" Harry tried, he really did, to listen to the answer, wondering what had happened suddenly where he had not before.

"17The boy is now a Dark Creature, he will be easier to turn to our side. Especially now, especially with you. And Lupin is a follower. He will do whatever Potter does."


	2. Flashbacks

"Stay here and don't leave his sight."

Harry bent his head, drawing his black cloak closer as Fenrir disappeared into the dingy storefront with Lestrange and Fletcher. He flicked a quick glance at Wormtail, who was about an arm's length away and Remus, who was across the street and half-hidden under a moldy old awning.

Harry crossed his arms and muttered under his breath, cursing Snape and the elder Malfoy, who had both insisted they were too busy to carry out this small errand. Lestrange and Fletcher, though, weren't trustworthy enough – oh, they were loyal to Voldemort, but Lestrange was half-mad on a good day and Fletcher could be distracted by anything shiny and pinchable. So Fenrir had to watch them; and it had been weeks since Harry saw sunlight off the castle grounds, so he came, too. Which meant Remus and Wormtail had to come – Remus to watch over Harry on Fenrir's orders, Wormtail to watch over both of the younger werewolves on Voldemort's orders.

Knockturn Alley was seeing the best business it had in decades. As Voldemort had predicted, with Dumbledore gone and the rest of the light side reeling while they tried to find someone to lead them, the Ministry was nearly paralyzed. Loyal light-sided wizards tried to keep order while spies and those loyal to Voldemort crippled the Aurors from the inside. No Dark wizard – or anyone seeking a restricted or dangerous item – feared to walk Knockturn Alley. It was Diagon Alley that was nearly deserted except during certain hours when people moved in groups, quickly and with their wands ready.

That was the main reason Remus had been brought along to watch Harry. The young man was hardly recognizable any longer as the Boy-Who-Lived; he had grown several inches in barely more than a month, he had filled out a bit, his glasses were gone, his hair was longer and tied back, and his famous scar was so faded it was almost invisible. Besides, who would expect famous Harry Potter, Gryffindor and hero, to be wearing a cloak emblazoned with the feared Dark Mark?

Wormtail shifted impatiently and after looking around, leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes. Harry rolled his. Some watchdog – well, watchrat, anyway. The Animagus' cloak was similarly marked on the right breast with the Dark Mark in bright, acid green – the same green as the Basilisk, as Harry recalled – but his was surrounded by a ring of gold thread to signify he was high-ranking in Voldemort's circle. Harry, and Remus, and Greyback (when he bothered) wore a different Mark … theirs was cradled in a silver crescent moon, marking them as werewolves loyal to the Dark. Harry detested the cloak and what it represented, but as he had been reminded earlier, it was either the cloak or he would go along in just his trousers.

A short wizard who looked a few years older than Harry paused on his way past, eyeing the new werewolf up and down before winking saucily. Harry bared his teeth, showing off the sharp, elongated canines and making the man jerk back a step. He was soon lost in the crowds.

Harry practically felt Remus shifting, moving closer in case something of that sort happened again. Harry was as anonymous as any other wizard here, and he wasn't dressed like a respectable young man out to buy a new book. He was only wearing a pair of black trousers and the cloak, which didn't quite close over his chest. It exposed his lean musculature and the faint scars near his navel. Remus had been set as Harry's guard ever after his first trip off the castle's grounds since being turned, when an ambitious young woman had assumed Harry was available. She'd flirted outrageously, mistaking Harry's silent boredom with shyness, until he told her to shove off. Alas, she was a witch, and hexed him. A moment later she was a bloody smear on the street and Fenrir was snarling possessively over Harry.

Harry hated to think it, but he had become a bit used to such violence, and very quickly. His first complete full moon had been a nightmare to the boy he was raised as – ten hapless Muggles had been let loose in the forest while Fenrir's pack enjoyed a hunt. Harry tried not to think about what he had done to the young boy whose legs hadn't had a chance to outrun him; he'd had no control over it and at least he hadn't enjoyed it as the other werewolves had.

Two witches a few years younger than Harry strolled past, chatting excitedly while their mother walked a few paces behind checking a list. Their bags, stamped with marks from the Apothecary, the tailor's and the bookstore reminded Harry that term at Hogwarts would be starting soon. Since the girls were obviously getting ready for another year, Harry knew they must be purebloods. After all, he had been dragged into the decision on how and when to reopen the venerable school.

_/Flashback\\_

Henry Saffric seemed unbothered by the pacing presence of the Dark Lord at his back as he poured over a very thick, very old book, tapping the pages with his wand and muttering unintelligibly. Voldemort was dividing his attention between Saffric the Scribe, Severus Snape, and Fenrir Greyback.

"I have no doubt most of the children who were sent to Durmstrang to get a proper education will be recalled to Hogwarts, but securing knowledgeable teachers will take more time." Said Snape, reading a letter as he spoke. "We can only fill about half of the positions as matters stand … and the most important – Charms, Transfiguration and Potions – are the ones we are having the most trouble with."

Voldemort glared at Snape, "What about Syrand?"

"She has been dithering," Snape frowned at the letter and tossed it onto the desk he was working at. "She needs an incentive to come – she hardly needs more freedom in the subject matter, as Waters has always been more liberal than Hogwarts in its curriculum."

"Offer her Deputy Headmistress," ordered Voldemort, and Snape bowed before striding out of the room. The Dark Lord spun on Saffric, "Are you done yet?"

"The layering spell is complete, my lord," the scribe said in a distracted voice. "Just two more and the identification charms will be available on command."

Harry was sitting on the couch next to Fenrir. He had been allowed to accompany his mate to this meeting solely for the demoralizing opportunity Voldemort saw in it. He wanted Harry to witness the destruction of a thousand years' worth of Muggle-born education in one easy step.

"What do you think, Potter?" he hissed, watching the boy closely for a reaction. "How does it make you feel to know no Mudblood shall ever step foot in Hogwarts again?"

Harry controlled the urge to retort sharply. While objectively, he hated the man and all he stood for, he had been well trained not to let his tongue or temper override his better survival instincts. After all, he was the Boy-Who-Lived. If there was anyone who knew about surviving a situation with his life and sanity intact, it was him.

"I think you're making a mistake," he said eventually, when he could manage to say it without spitting it. He even thought he managed to make it sound halfway respectful.

Voldemort laughed at him, "Of course you do. You see no problem in educating those who are unworthy of magic, in diluting our gift with those who cannot appreciate a fraction of its value."

Harry gritted his teeth for a moment and kept his eyes down. He knew if he looked up into Voldemort's taunting serpent face he would do something regrettable. He considered several different answers to that before settling on, "I don't necessarily think every Muggle-born wizard should be educated in magic … but those with enough power? Isn't it a waste to kill them?"

Voldemort stopped his pacing, perhaps surprised at getting an intelligent response. "There is no way to measure a child's power, Potter, and allowing them to live and get to Hogwarts only makes disposing of the weakest more messy in the end."

Harry bit his lip, glancing up at Fenrir. The older werewolf raised an eyebrow, then nodded, silently giving Harry permission to say what he wanted. He cleared his throat, hoping his voice would hold out; his voicebox had been permanently damaged when he was turned and he rarely spoke now. Harry glanced quickly up at Voldemort before continuing. "But killing them as children prevents any chance of finding a Muggle-born who would be powerful enough to match most purebloods. I doubt I would have turned out half as able if my mother was an in-bred pureblood like my father."

Voldemort hissed, making Harry's scar flare in pain. "Stand up, Potter, you look pathetic cowering there." He waited until Harry had come to his feet, then circled the boy. "And what then, Potter? What compromise would there be?"

Harry looked from the scribe, to Voldemort, then back at his feet. He was frantically thinking, considering anything that wouldn't bring the wrath of Hermione and his mother on his head if they were to hear of it.

"A separate school would be the best solution," he said at last, biting his lip. "Muggle-born students could be educated to a lesser degree there, but those who showed exceptional ability and determination should be allowed to go to Hogwarts for a full education."

"Ones like your little Mudblood friend, Granger?" Voldemort hissed, beginning his pacing again. "And what of the others? Those too weak or disinclined to seek betterment?"

This was the sticking point in his idea. If he couldn't think of a better purpose for lower-level wizards the entire lot would be exterminated…. "They could be educated, but perhaps not to the same level? They would only need to learn the basics, charms and spells through the fifth year. Wouldn't they be useful for the lower-level duties? Nannies, clerks, that sort of thing?" Harry didn't notice Voldemort's eyes narrowing at him, as he was getting another idea.

"They could be put under a restriction – say they were only allowed to continue practicing magic if they produced a magical child with another wizard. The child wouldn't be pureblood and couldn't attend Hogwarts but after say, two generations it would be allowed, so long as they continued producing magical children. If the theories on magical descendence are right, requiring Muggle-born witches and wizards to only have children with other witches and wizards would concentrate their ability and produce more powerful offspring."

Harry stopped after a moment, glancing up to see how his idea was being taken. Fenrir didn't seem affected, but Voldemort was glaring, and Harry's scar began to throb.

"Get him out of my sight." He nearly shouted; Fenrir obeyed, tossing Harry over his shoulder and taking him back to bed.

_/End Flashback\\_

Harry had thought his idea had at least _some_ merit, despite Voldemort's initial reaction. And, a few weeks later, he learned he wasn't the only one. Plans had been made to begin the school, starting with all the Muggle-born students currently attending Hogwarts. Voldemort set Harry the task of suggesting the headmaster of the school, which might have seemed easy enough, but was not. A school of Muggle-born students was ripe for some sadistic Death Eater to take control of and make into a twisted mockery of the original idea. But Harry only had a limited selection of people to choose from – the headmaster had to be a Death Eater, and had to be a male – Voldemort's rules.

After a while considering it, and being able to watch and learn about the Death Eaters who frequented the castle, Harry suggested Forscythe Avery he met Voldemort's requirements, and Harry's. He was not a typical Death Eater – one of the men and women who followed the Slytherin Heir in search of Dark Arts, power and control. Avery was a family man who had been a Ravenclaw and had a fascination with ancient Dark Arts; he was considered something of a walking dictionary on the subject and much like Snape, was used for his knowledge. He had three daughters ranging in age from thirteen to five, and they adored their father. His wife was expecting a fourth; Harry didn't know for sure that he would treat Muggle-borns equally, but at least he knew how to deal with children and would be more interested in their education than keeping them down because they were less pure.

Voldemort approved the choice, and Harry's suggestion that Remus teach as well. After all, Remus was a good teacher, he was qualified, and since Harry had been turned he had surrendered to Moony and stopped fighting the Dark nature of his lycanthropy, so the Dark Lord trusted him. The school would not begin its first session until after New Year's, but first priority had to go towards getting teachers and students arranged for Hogwarts.

Harry walked closer to Remus when the older man came across the street and motioned him over. Traffic was constant on Knockturn and he had to be careful not to knock into anyone. Not only was it a bad idea to offend any of the wand-wielding wizards around him, but also Fenrir absolutely hated anyone getting too close to Harry. Generally, Voldemort and Remus were the only ones who would get within arm's length of him.

"Something wrong?" Harry asked softly, not worried about Remus having trouble hearing him.

"Rest your voice," the older man said, pushing Harry's shoulder until the dark-haired werewolf was further in the shadows. "Alastor Moody and Shaklebolt have been seen on the Alley today and I don't want them recognizing you."

Harry nodded and slid behind Remus. He knew better than to try and find either of the Order members, knowing it would only cause a lot of trouble and possibly a very unpleasant punishment for him. After Voldemort had explained his situation in exact language, he'd been forced to make a hard decision about his imprisonment.

_/Flashback\\_

"Aww, is Potter hiding?" Peter Pettigrew peered around the door to one of the smaller libraries and smirked at finding the younger male there. "What's the matter? Muggle upsetting your stomach?"

Harry closed his eyes to block out the hated face, but that only made him nauseous. When his eyes were closed he couldn't help but remember the scent of fear and desperation on that boy, the hot burst of blood in his mouth, choking cries that quickly died out – he swallowed and nearly threw up. Wormtail stared at him with his hateful, beady little eyes and Harry glared.

"What do you want, traitor?" he felt a small victory in the shiver this produced in Wormtail. His throat was rough from vomiting that morning and the transformation last night, and he sounded terrible.

Pettigrew regained himself and sneered at Harry, "Not the only one who's a traitor now, am I, little werewolf? You should see what they're saying in the papers about dear Remus."

Harry glared at Wormtail, not daring to look away and give the rat the pleasure of knowing he had scored a painful blow. For nearly forty years Remus had suppressed his werewolf side, Moony, but when Harry was turned and taken as Greyback's mate, he'd let the lycan overtake him. For a while, he'd gone a bit mad. Against orders, he'd snuck off to Grimmauld Place to find Tonks; he was hoping to convince her away from the Order or at least talking her into keeping his presence a secret so they could continue seeing each other.

The visit had gone badly. Tonks was at first happy to see Remus, if worried, but the more he talked to her the more she became aware he was not the same gentle, almost timid person she had known. Upon hearing Harry's situation and their lack of attempts to escape – indeed, Remus' plans to return of his own free will – she'd tried to curse and capture him for the Order. Remus was unsurprisingly not pleased. He broke her wand, then both her legs and raped her before leaving Grimmauld in flames.

Harry was still uneasy around Remus because of it and did not appreciate Pettigrew's reminder. The _Daily Prophet_ had gotten hold of the story and ran with it, which coincided nicely with the new laws on werewolves and other Dark Creatures. It was the combination of this and the long stay in Voldemort's castle that had triggered Harry's first attempt to take his own life.

Fenrir had outright laughed at him, after he put the bloody boy in a bath and ran the cold water. Werewolves, he was reminded, healed fast and it was difficult to kill them in the first place. Second, their inner beast did not like the idea of being killed and never let their human commit suicide. They could and did damage themselves, but never fatally. Harry had gotten close the second time when he broke into the potions lab and stole a large vial of amalgamated silver – it had put him in bed again for another week because silver could do terrible things to a werewolf and it resisted healing, plus the mercury hadn't helped – but that had been his last attempt.

Now he eyed Pettigrew, who continued to taunt him, over Remus' status on the most-wanted list along with the Azkaban escapees and Voldemort, and the boy Harry had killed last night. Quicker than the Animagus could react, Harry was off the couch and attacking him. Wormtail flung out his silver hand in defense; exactly what Harry wanted him to do. He grabbed the hand, gritting his teeth against the shriek of pain this caused, and wrenched downward and out. Pettigrew screamed as the hand tore free, staggering backward before he fell to the floor. Harry dropped the silver hand and cradled his own burnt palm with a sadistic grin as Pettigrew tried to reattach the shapeless lump of metal.

Harry's head jerked up as he become aware of the scent of his alpha over the stench of blood and pain, catching sight of a furious Fenrir. The older werewolf swung his arm, hitting Harry across the chest and flinging him across the room. He managed to roll before he slammed into the table in the center of the room and came to a halt.

"Which one of you wants to explain what is going on here?" Voldemort hissed as he strolled in behind Fenrir. Harry looked up, ready to snap that the rat had only gotten what was coming to him. Greyback snarled at him warningly and Harry stayed silent, lowering his eyes quickly. "Well?" Voldemort demanded, kicking Wormtail. "Answer me!"

"H-he attacked me M-Master," he sobbed, showing them his stub of an arm, still bleeding freely on his robes. "Please, Master…."

Voldemort did not look pleased, "He is an unarmed boy, Wormtail! Are you not capable of using that wand at your side?" when the pathetic man just continued to sob he hissed, "Allow me to demonstrate. _Crucio!_"

Harry screamed in pain, his body contorting at inhuman angles as the curse moved over him. Voldemort only lifted the spell when Fenrir shifted beside him, apparently satisfied the boy had been punished sufficiently.

"Wormtail. I gave you that hand as a reward – it is no concern of mine if you cannot keep hold of it. Take yourself down to see Severus, now!"

Pettigrew slowly gathered up his bloody robes, the lump of silver, and shuffled off, still weeping. Voldemort had already turned to Harry again, flicking his wand and levitating the young werewolf back to his feet.

"You are not adjusting very well, Potter … I suppose it would be too much to expect Dumbledore's pet Golden Boy to resign himself to fate too quickly." He came to a stop in front of Harry, serpentine features tightened in cruel amusement. "Are you awaiting rescue, perhaps…? No, I suppose not, you're more intelligent than that. Escape, then? You are the sort to depend on yourself above all others…"

Voldemort laughed as he saw the confirmation of his guess in Harry's eyes. "You stupid little boy. What are you thinking? That you will wandlessly be able to break your pretty collar?" he flicked a finger against the dragonhide ring that still rested around Harry's neck. "Do you think you can get past all of the guards, past the Death Eaters and creatures who live here, past the spells guarding the entire castle and grounds?" he chuckled, a disgusting, hissing sound. "Let us pretend for a moment, Mr. Potter, that you managed the impossible and escaped …. What then?

"Are you going to flee back to your dear Muggle relatives? …Oh, I had forgotten to tell you, Lucius did you a favor and killed the woman, so I suppose that option is out. Well, I'm certain the infamous Order of the Phoenix would be happy to lend you their protection … but without Dumbledore, they're helpless. Who could protect you now, Harry? McGonagall? The Weasleys? Perhaps Moody, he is rather handy with a wand … but he has no liking for werewolves, you know. Rather like Severus, actually, too many close calls …. Had you forgotten, Harry, that you are now controlled by the _were_ inside you and the moon. Your little friends will have no time to care for you while they are trying to save themselves.

"But you could have your own little pack … imagine it, you could return to your precious Weasleys and live on the run, begging for food and shelter like your pathetic godfather…." Voldemort merely smirked at the low growl this got from Harry. "But I had forgotten, you would be just as wanted by the Ministry now … a dangerous Dark beast …. Aurors have been given authorization to use the Killing Curse against werewolves now, of course you knew that. I suppose, you _are_ the Boy-Who-Lived …. It's what you do best, isn't it, Harry? You survive. You might even manage to carve out a place for yourself, if not for one problem … you are a mated werewolf. And your alpha," he glanced at Fenrir, "is loyal to me. You might have one, even two months outside the castle free before your lycanthropy turns completely against you … then you would come back here willing or not – or you would die without your mate."

_/End Flashback\\_

Tom Riddle hadn't been the most successful student at Hogwarts since Dumbledore without a reason. He was right about everything he told Harry, and they all knew it. So Harry had settled. It wasn't that he had resigned himself, he was still ready for any opportunity that presented a better option, but he was realistic. As Fenrir had told him, the way things stood he was fed, sheltered, taken care of, and he was with Remus. He wasn't going to upset that unless there was a good reason.

There was a minor explosion in the building behind them. In the Muggle world it might have been cause for anything from concern to outright panic but on Knockturn it barely cause a rippled in the passers-by. Harry and Remus watched as Lestrange, Fenrir, then Fletcher walked out the front door without a scratch on them, Rodolfus carrying a large sack and looking pleased with himself.

Greyback immediately looked for Harry, finding him half-hidden in shadow behind Remus. He frowned before recognizing the warning glance Remus gave to the street around them.

It was enough forewarning to save the older werewolf. He leapt back into the storefront as spells exploded across the alley, most of them deadly green. Lestrange Apparated away with the parcel after sending back a few Unforgiveables and Fletcher was only a few seconds behind him. Harry watched as Moody and Shacklebolt spotted Wormtail against the wall, barely woken from the nap he had been taking. The rat Animagus cursed them a few times, then, instead of Apparating as he should have, ran off. The two Aurors were chasing after him in an instant, shoving people aside as they went.

"Stay in sight," Greyback snapped, as he appeared and followed after the fleeing Death Eater. "Idiot rat," he growled, pulling his wand from his sleeve and sending a cutting hex at Moody's back.

Shoppers were now reacting, not wanting to get in the crossfire of dangerous hexes. Harry latched onto Remus' arm and ran with him after Fenrir, watching for any sign of Wormtail or Shacklebolt. For some reason Voldemort did value Pettigrew and they knew they couldn't return to the castle without him.

Remus paused next to a store and shoved Harry inside as he drew his wand. "Harry, stay down, stay here, we'll come back for you in a second. Understood?"

Harry looked him right in the eye and nodded, "I will."

The sandy-haired man squeezed his shoulder and ran outside, chasing after the others. Harry leaned his forehead against the glass for a moment, feeling bereft and hating it. Since being captured he was almost never left alone and he felt uneasy without anyone around him, especially since he had no wand and no way to escape if something should go wrong.

He glanced around the shop he was in when a minute or two had passed and no one he knew went by the window. It took him only a second to recognize the place Borgin and Burke's. Coming to this place had never been good news for him and it immediately set his teeth on edge. His entrance did not seem to have alerted the proprietor so he was safe for now … after a moment, he reassessed that thought. If Aurors or other trouble showed up, Borgin might be his best option to make it back to the castle, safely and quickly. Surely the man would help him, even if it was only in interest of receiving a reward from the Death Eaters for capturing 'the Boy-Who-Lived.'

Once he had settled down enough Harry suddenly realized he wasn't alone in the shop. He could hear someone breathing in the far corner, out of sight of the windows, hidden behind the vanishing cabinet and a few other large artifacts. He stilled his own breathing and strained to listen, discerning that there were three, maybe four others hiding back there.

Harry immediately weighed his options. He would be in trouble if he went after Remus and Fenrir, and there was no telling who he might run into outside. Still, he had no idea who else might have chosen to hide in the dark artifact shop and there was no way he could defend against three wizards if they were hostile. The curtain that covered the back door to the shop was just out of sight of the vanishing cabinet, so he might be able to get back there and reach a fire and some Floo power if he was lucky.

Harry decided on waiting for the moment, moving away from the window and sinking down into a crouch, hidden behind a large Chinoise vase that looked far too expensive for Burke's.

The wait was interminable. Harry was thankful for perhaps the first time for his strength as a werewolf, able to remain in the same position without a single twinge in his back or legs. He rested the tips of his fingers on the ground and closed his eyes for a while, knowing any movement or arrival would alert his ears first anyway.

A very soft slithering sound brought him back to attention a few minutes later and he looked up, searching for the disturbance. He was shocked to see a small ear wiggling toward him, a long flesh-colored worm sticking out the back and winding through the shop. Someone had been visiting Weasley's Wizard Wheezes lately.

He reached down carefully and pinched the ear shut. Someone cried out in surprise and a second later a Stunning hex was shooting straight toward Harry. He ducked, covering his head as the Chinoise vase exploded, sending dark green powder and pieces of china in all directions. Harry sneezed and grabbed a sharp piece of pottery, getting halfway to his feet and waiting for the attack.

"Harry?"

He blinked, shocked, as a trio of redheads and one brunette stepped out from behind the cabinet, staring at him in shock. All four of them glanced at his forehead for confirmation when he just stared, speechless. His hair had grown out, long enough to tuck the front behind his ears, leaving the center of his face visible and with it, the faded lightning bolt.

"Harry!"

A redhead burst forward, hugging him hard as the twins came forward and began shooting questions at him and the brunette – Hermione – stood there with tears in her eyes, staring at his scarred neck and the Dark Mark on his cloak. Harry jerked into motion at the physical contact, shoving the girl away from him hurriedly.

"Ginny?"


	3. Acceptance

"Ginny?"

She nodded, grinning and crying at the same time, obviously not yet having seen what Hermione had. Vaguely Harry wondered where Ron was as he took a hesitant step back from the four.

"Harry? What – what's wrong? Are you… all right?" Ginny asked, following him. Harry watched her eyes widen in horror and took another step back. He'd heard the bell over the door jingling even if they hadn't in the confusion.

He came up against a familiar broad chest, long arms wrapping around him tightly. He could smell Remus standing not far behind Fenrir and Wormtail further back; at the moment, he didn't care. He spun around and buried his face in the soft fabric of Greyback's shirt, closing his eyes to the increasingly frantic Weasleys who were calling his name and asking what was going on. Fenrir bared his teeth at them in a savage grin and, tightening his grip on Harry, Apparated away.

The wards around the castle held them in limbo for several agonizing seconds before they were identified satisfactorily and deposited in the entrance hall. Wormtail straightened his cloak, looking a little burnt around the edges and still shaking from a variety of spells he hadn't been able to dodge, and stalked away with what dignity he could manage. Remus turned to ask Fenrir whether they needed to report to Voldemort but found him frowning down at Harry. The younger male was shaking, eyes dilated unnaturally and clutching at the alpha's shoulders with a white-knuckled grip.

"Call Severus," Greyback snapped, picking up his mate and glaring at Remus when he did nothing. "What are you waiting for?"

"He's got powder all over his face," Remus muttered, peering closer. He quickly put his hand over his mouth and nose when the scent hit him. "Shite. That's a lust potion."

"Will it harm him?" Fenrir growled out.

"No, he won't have gotten a large dose. It will last for a few hours, though. I think Snape could brew an antidote in a few minutes – "

"Nevermind," Fenrir strode away, grinning. "I can handle this."

Harry was squirming lightly against him and distracting Fenrir with every step. He was used to his mate being receptive, but Harry _never_ initiated anything between them. Greyback had noticed that every time they had sex the smaller male was more active, more willing, responding and returning the pleasure Fenrir gave him a little more each time, but it was nothing like this. By the time they reached the third floor where their room was located Harry had wrapped his legs around Fenrir's waist and was licking and sucking at his neck. Fenrir nearly walked past their room, distracted with the hands in his hair and the needy little whines Harry made every time their hips brushed.

He threw open the door and nearly tossed Harry on the bed, pulling off his shirt and growling, "Naked, now!"

Harry bared one fang at him and shrugged out of his cloak then wriggled his hips purposely as he pulled off his pants and flung them away. Fenrir was on him in a second and pushing Harry over onto his stomach.

(Edited for Content)



"And why aren't they here to report?" Lucius Malfoy demanded when Remus had finished explaining how they'd gotten Pettigrew away from Moody and Shacklebolt before retrieving Harry.

Wormtail glanced at Remus, too, having wondered the same thing when Greyback and Potter didn't follow them to the attendance chamber where Voldemort waited. He was surprised to see a slight blush on the werewolf's face.

"Harry was covered in powder from some product at Borgin and Burke's … a lust potion."

Only someone watching very closely would have noticed the slight widening of the Dark Lord's eyes before they narrowed. "They are not here to report … because they're fucking?"

Snape frowned at Lupin, "What potion was it? Something like that at Borgin's might have less than pleasant side effects."

Remus shook his head, "I'm not certain the exact identity – it was medium dark green, fairly large granules, and it smelled like … pumpkin and vanilla, I think."

Everyone watched Snape as he frowned, mentally listing the potions that might match that description. He eventually nodded at Voldemort, "It's a complicated lust potion, illegal because it overrides all resistance and in many cases causes infertility."

"Reassuring that it was given to a werewolf, then," Voldemort snapped. "Is there anything else dangerous in it?"

Snape shook his head, "It's not an easy potion to brew or administer … how did the boy get it all over him, Lupin?"

Remus had to think over the layout of the shop before he could come up with an answer. "There was a damaged vase next to him when we arrived. It looked like it had been hit with an offensive spell and burst under the impact. Harry must have been close to it and the powder landed on him."

Snape nodded, "Interesting; they must have mixed the potion with the porcelain before firing the vase – it probably gave off mild effects just through skin contact, which would explain its presence in Burke's."

Voldemort waved him aside. "Anything else, Lupin?"

He nodded reluctantly, "We should expect Harry's name to be in the _Prophet_ tomorrow. He was there long enough for at least one of the children to recognize his cloak, and he didn't try to explain anything to them or leave the shop with them. I'm sure Granger at the very least would have put it all together."

The Dark Lord ignored that, "It was only a matter of time before someone decided to declare him Dark and make it stick. Next time, I expect less negligence on duty." Remus bowed, not so much as flinching when Voldemort turned his wand on Pettigrew and cursed him. Wormtail fell to the ground and thrashed, his metal hand making an echo bounce around the room when it banged on the floor. Severus had been able to reattach the hand but it wasn't as dexterous as before and had reverted to a silver and tin mixture rather than pure silver as it had been.

When he lifted the curse Voldemort rose from his throne and gestured for Remus to follow him. When they were out of the hall and walking alone, he began to speak. "Construction is nearly finished on the Mudblood school. How do you think Potter will react to teaching them?"

Remus bit his lip, controlling his surprise. After he considered it, he answered honestly, "I understand he enjoyed teaching students from Hogwarts in the Defense Association. What is he going to be teaching?"

"Charms," said Voldemort, heading up the stairs. "Defense may be his specialty, but it would present too much of a temptation for our resident hero…. Tell me, Remus, do you think he would ever go back?" he paused on the stairs to see Remus' face when he answered.

"I – I think he wants to, ideally. But Harry's realistic enough to know it would never last …. No. I don't think he would take the chance to escape now." He met the Dark Lord's eyes, trying to control a wince. Werewolves were naturally protected from most Legillimens, but Voldemort was no average wizard. After a time, the older man nodded and continued.

"I think we shall deliver the good news now."

"Now?" Remus gaped, closing his jaw with a snap when Voldemort shot a glare his way.

"I see someone was in too much of a hurry to set a simple Eavesdropping hex," the older man hissed, frowning as they entered the right corridor and immediately heard a mixture of moans and cries coming from the room down the center. Voldemort twitched his fingers and the door flew open.

Remus grimaced and remained at the door. Even from here his nose was overwhelmed and he would have left but it was obvious Voldemort intended to interrupt.

Fenrir paused for a moment, raising his head from where he had been gently gnawing on his mate's shoulder to look over his shoulder. Harry grunted beneath him and raised his hips, trying to get Fenrir's attention and, when that failed, forcibly grasping the alpha's head and jerking him back down.

"I will separate you two if you do not _pay attention_," Voldemort hissed, drawing his wand.

Harry turned his head slightly, green eyes narrowed and hissed back, _"What do you want, that can't wait five minutes?"_

There was a split second where Voldemort was shocked enough at hearing another person speak Parseltongue that he didn't realize what the brat had said. He drew his wand.

Before he could send a curse at the black-haired werewolf, Fenrir had lowered his own body to cover Harry and growled threateningly at the older man. Remus, fighting instincts that were telling him to get out of there as quickly as possible, stepped forward enough to be in Voldemort's sight without blocking his wand.

"They've both gotten a dose of the potion, my Lord. I don't believe either of them are fully aware of their actions right now." He was talking fast, the continued growling from Fenrir almost making his knees buckle.

Voldemort backed down after a moment. "Fenrir. I want a report from you as soon as this potion wears off … I will punish Potter later."

He swept out of the room, ignoring Remus who was only half a step behind him and closed the door carefully.

Harry tightened his ass around the cock buried inside him, grinning when Fenrir stopped growling. He had enough time to appreciate the possessive, protective look on the older werewolf's face before Fenrir snapped his hips forward sharply and drew him back into ecstasy.

When the potion wore off it was dark outside and neither Harry nor Fenrir felt like moving so much as a single muscle. The bigger male considered for a moment ignoring Voldemort's summons until morning but decided it was only fair if he woke the tyrant up in the middle of the night. He left Harry curled under the covers, barely twitching when Fenrir left and pulled on a clean shirt and trousers.

Voldemort was indeed asleep. His resurrection had left him less than human, though, so he didn't require as much sleep as a normal person and wasn't as upset as expected to be woken.

"Pettigrew was distracted with escaping … Moody and Shacklebolt?" he asked, taking a seat in front of the fire and gesturing for the werewolf to take the other chair.

"Both were still breathing when we left, but I doubt Moody survived unless he got to a mediwizard within fifteen minutes. Lupin got him right across the base of his neck with a slicing curse … I don't know about Shacklebolt. He's a berserker, hard to tell in the heat of things how badly he's really been hurt, but he'll walk with a limp from now on."

"How did Potter react to the Weasleys and Granger?"

Fenrir was used to the Dark Lord's quick topic changes and didn't pause in answering, "Well, considering. He didn't make a move toward them."

"Good. I think he should visit them again, but next time, under the moon."

Fenrir grinned, showing his sharp canines. He had a redhead girl to pay back, in any case.



Harry stared down the hill with a feeling of dread and finality settling in his stomach like a lead brick.

"This is my punishment?"

"This is it," Fenrir agreed, taking in the heady scent behind the boy's ear. "You're to turn the oldest … and any others you can."

Harry knew his _were_ wouldn't disobey, "What about the wards? Protections around the house?"

The grin that crossed the man's face was scary in the faint light, "They're mostly set to detect the Dark Mark … and neither of us are Death Eaters, are we Coyote?"

Harry nodded, smiling a little at his 'wolf' name. Both Fenrir and Remus told him he was too skinny and gangly, even as a wolf, and he looked more like a thin-legged coyote than a timber wolf. Besides, Fenrir had insisted he needed a name other than the human tag he had been given, and Harry's mannerisms and voice were closer to a coyote than the other werewolves in Fenrir's pack.

Harry's head shot up at a rustle in the trees, but it was only Remus. He was stripping with mechanical movements and setting his clothing in the bag Fenrir had brought with them. Surprisingly enough, the alpha didn't detest clothing – just the opposite, actually. He always wore very soft fabrics for the sheer physical sensation and dressed simply but in quality. The bag was a pre-set Portkey that would return to the castle in a few minutes when they had no more need for clothing.

Harry shivered, not at the chill for being naked in the night air, but in knowing he would be responsible for at least one more werewolf after tonight. Fenrir tightened his arms around Harry's shoulders and drew him closer, resting his chin on the dark hair while he kept an eye out for the moon. When it began to rise above the tree line on the opposite hill he gave the last instructions.

"Keep as quiet as you can until we get close. Moony, keep them from going for help. Once we're done head back here and we'll rest in the forest until morning."

Both younger werewolves nodded and Harry stood, stretching his arms in a vain effort to ease out the ache that was developing. They stayed there, moving around a little but keeping in the shadow of the trees until the moon was full in the sky. Fenrir gave no signal before he ran toward the hill, body suddenly silver in the moonlight; Harry and Remus were only a few paces behind him.

Reaching out for his _were_, Harry felt the change coming smoothly and flowed from human to werewolf with barely a pause. The scent of redheaded wizards filled the air and they flew down the hill and into the field behind the tottering house silent and quick. The urge to howl and greet mother moon was strong but they resisted for the moment, more intent on the alpha's orders.

Magic swept over them with a harsh pull on their fur but the wards didn't stop them. Coyote pulled ahead, skidding to a stop in front of the kitchen door and butting his head against the latch so the bottom half swung open with a faint creak. Fenrir nipped his flank in approval and stalked past him, sniffing around the room.

Moony went to the fireplace and knocked over the pot of Floo powder then turned, lifted his leg and peed, destroying the green powder. Coyote crept into the living room, following the rank scent of unwashed human. He paused for a moment and stilled at seeing the tall silhouette at the window, staring up at the moon. The long hair, the scarred face, the earring identified him easily. Coyote nearly wagged his tail in delight at finding his prey so easily.

Bill turned, sixth sense jangling in alarm and gasped at the glowing green amber eyes watching him. He backed up and knocked over a stack of WWW order forms, half stumbling and reaching for the wand he'd left upstairs under his pillow.

The black wolf leapt, crushing him against the wall with a feral snarl. Bill yelled as sharp teeth sank deep into his arm and ripped, sliding down the wall weakly. The werewolf turned from him and bounded away just as lights came on and people started running down the stairs.

Arthur rushed into the room first, wand held out in front of him. He searched around quickly, sighting the half-open door, the puddle on the floor, and a faint red smear on the living room wall. He ran toward it frantically. "Bill!"

Jaws clamped around his outstretched arm and he yelled incoherently as his wrist was crushed beneath the powerful grip. He heard screaming behind him and, fighting against the dark wolf shaking his arm like a rag doll, turned to see Ginny backed into a corner before an enormous dark gray wolf. He shouted a warning but was unable to do anything but watch as she broke into a run for the door and was caught by the leg and flung to the floor.

Fred, George and Molly came down together, already shooting spells toward the werewolves. Arthur felt relief both at their actions and physically as he was released; that is, until he noticed the black wolf heading for the trio on the stairs along with a third he hadn't caught sight of before.

Molly knew few spells worked against full-grown werewolves and was charming her pots and pans to slam into the beasts and create a barrier between her sons and the lycans. Fred was freezing patches of the floor, making the larger wolf slip and take his attention off them; George Summoned his mother's gardening tools and shoved back the black wolf with a vicious stab toward his foreleg.

Arthur stumbled toward the stairs after finding Bill unconscious but alive. "Keep them there, I'll get the brooms and get us out of here!" he shouted as he headed up the stairs with his bleeding wrist clutched against his chest, fighting the fire shooting through his veins. He got halfway up the stairs before Molly's screams and pained howling filled the air.

In a moment he had gone back to see his wife kneeling on the floor clutching their daughter's body close, rocking back and forth and screaming at Ginny to open her eyes. Bill was leaning against the door, wand pointed into the darkness. One of the wolves was on the floor, snarling, with a butcher knife protruding from just in front of its hind leg.

"Floo the Ministry," Bill rasped, barely able to stand upright. He was already weak and having to use his father's wand instead of his own was tiring.

"No Floo powder," Fred gasped, trying hard not to look at his mother and the bloody mess that had been his sister.

Arthur stumbled over and pulled out the hollow brick from above the fireplace with its cache of emergency Floo powder as Bill was locking and spelling the door shut.

"George, go secure the windows and anything else they might get through," Bill said on a gasp, sinking to the floor still facing the door.

Fred glanced over his shoulder and watched his twin go, before he went to Bill and tried to help him. He wrapped a kitchen towel around the badly bleeding arm, hands shaking when he noticed the dark stain spreading. "They won't come back, Bill. What'd you use to make them run like that, anyway? Know anything to make that one go to sleep?" he nodded toward the snarling wolf bleeding in the corner; it kept trying to get up but failed when its legs couldn't support it.

"They'll be back. Look around, Fred, these aren't random werewolves who somehow _opened_ the door and stayed quiet until we were in the room." he gasped as Fred pressed on the wound to stem the bleeding. "And we'd better either put that one to sleep or kill it," he choked. "It'll heal in another hour or two."

"Aurors are coming." Arthur said, pulling his head out of the fire. He looked at Molly as George came back and stood in the doorway, unsure what to do.

"Make sure the others don't come down here," Bill said low, pushing Fred toward the stairs. "The kids don't need to see this."

Fred nodded, dragging George with him. He wasn't sure how Ron and Hermione had slept through that racket, or Fleur, but it would do no good to have them go down there now and see the aftermath.

Arthur greeted the Aurors, Palmer and Leef, who arrived moments later in full battle dress. They stared around the kitchen, which was in ruins and spattered with blood in several places.

"How many?" Palmer asked as Leef moved toward Bill and examined his wound.

"Three werewolves," Arthur said, nodding to the corner. Palmer strode forward and hit the werewolf with three Stunning spells in quick succession before the lycan went limp. He yanked the butcher knife free and stared down at the animal, obviously considering finishing the beast off right then.

"Palmer." Leef snapped, nodding back toward Arthur. Palmer nodded and told Arthur to Floo to the Ministry along with Bill. A Portkey was attached to the werewolf and Leef remained behind to secure the house and take statements. He was quick and finished within half an hour; moments after he Apparated away the Weasleys and Hermione Flooed to Minerva McGonagall's home when their house was surrounded with howling.

Deep in the Ministry's holding cells was a large room set with reinforced bars and strips of silver around the outside. Not far away two of the Weasleys were being treated for their bite wounds and given an experimental lycanthropy antidote. Outside the cell two Aurors were waiting for the moon to go down so they could identify and begin questioning the werewolf.

Since waking, the black wolf had been pacing and howling with unusual high pitch and loud bays. He was limping from a broken right foreleg and the wound in his left hip, both of which would be gone before the moon set. He was leggy and thin and their initial assessment was that he was a poor or homeless wizard or Muggle who had joined a pack out of desperation against the new werewolf laws.

Imagine the Auror's shock when the wolf form was replaced with Harry Potter, long-missing Boy-Who-Lived. They called the Minister.

"Is he talking?" Scrimgeour asked an hour later when he arrived in the observation room; Potter was curled in a corner of the questioning room, as far as he could get from the Aurors attempting to interrogate him.

The grizzled Auror next to him shook his head, "Kid's throat is damaged – no telling whether he's a mute or not, but he hasn't made so much as a peep since the moon went down."

The Minister nodded gravely, "The Weasleys?"

"New potion seems to be working," Moody growled. "No transformation last night, anyway. They're asking to see who bit them."

Scrimgeour considered it a moment, "They knew Potter before? Might be a good idea, they might be able to get him to talk."

Moody nodded and went off to collect the two Weasley men; he wasn't fond of werewolves, even those who claimed to not be controlled by the curse when the full moon wasn't up. As far as he was concerned, once you were a werewolf, you were a Dark Creature same as Vampires, banshees and Dementors. And after the story Granger and the younger Weasleys had told them of seeing Potter in Knockturn Alley, he was more certain than ever that the curse had corrupted a light wizard.

The Weasleys were eager to see Harry. They'd heard the same story Moody had but held more faith in the young Potter; after all, they'd known him longer and if there was no hope for Harry, there was very little for them, either.

The young werewolf was only mildly more responsive to the Weasleys compared to the Aurors. He looked at them and nodded yes or no to their questions but he snarled and bared his teeth whenever they got too close, even to lend him their cloaks as he was still naked. By lunchtime it was decided to let the young man sit and stew for a while before they tried again.

Potter remained unresponsive to the Auror's questioning during this time and eventually Scrimgeour gave permission for them to use Veritaserum. At first they were able to get some information, such as why the Weasleys had been targeted and who the other werewolves were, but after a few questions Potter's voice gave out and he was physically unable to answer anything else.

In a few days the Aurors tried again, only to learn that Potter knew almost nothing about the Dark Lord other than his appearance, his power, and his plans for schooling the children of the wizarding world. He could not tell them the name or whereabouts of the castle Voldemort worked from, as he had always been Apparated there, no Floo or more ordinary means of transportation. Asking him the names of Death Eaters was useless, as all those Harry knew of actually resided at the castle; he didn't know the names of any spies or Dark supporters from the regular population. He was useless for information.

Two days later the Weasleys were released when they continued to remain wolf-free under the full moon. Once they were gone Scrimgeour gave the authorization to execute Potter quietly; he was a liability to the Ministry, he was obviously not going to be of any use to them, and if it was known by the populace that he'd been turned they might demand the precious Boy-Who-Lived be allowed free.

Harry Potter was, however, the Boy-Who-Lived. Never had it been more clear that the title was more than just a catchy phrase, that it was a description of his power, than when the Ministry tried to put him down. After assigning a Hit Wizard to perform the Killing Curse Scrimgeour had quite a time filling out paperwork trying to explain how the man died when the curse reflected. They tried an injection of silver but that was far less effective than hoped … oh, the boy was weakened and he was obviously in pain, but he didn't even lose consciousness. At that point, the Minister was a bit stymied. Poisons and other spells wouldn't work against a werewolf; the worst of the Unforgiveables had twice now proven ineffective, and even silver couldn't bring down the former Gryffindor.

Scrimgeour was considering finding a vampire or Dementor to at least cripple the Potter boy when the Aurors on guard reported that the prisoner had stopped eating. Scrimgeour decided to see where this went and ordered the guards to keep delivering meals at the scheduled times, but nothing else.

After two weeks in the cell Harry stayed in one corner nearly all day, conserving his energy and trying to keep his sanity. His _were_ was going steadily mad without Greyback near and it was affecting Harry day and night. He'd been unable to stomach food for a few days and even water didn't always stay down. If he hadn't still been sick from the silver and the second attempt to _Avada Kedavra_ him he probably would have been able to hold out until the next full moon, but he was too weak. He'd lost weight he couldn't afford to spare and worst of all, he was sure Coyote would drive him mad.

He'd long since realized no one was coming for him. Voldemort had so many spies and DE's in the Ministry it was inconceivable that he wouldn't be able to orchestrate an escape for Harry if he really wanted to. Harry buried his face in his knobbly knees and wished he could fall asleep and just not wake up again.

He'd heard the Weasleys were cured, until a few days ago. Seems Molly and Fleur had noticed some odd behavior in their husbands … Harry was both smug and sad at the news. He'd known, from hearing Snape complain about it, that the Ministry's experimental cure was in fact a prevention for lycanthropy if it was given within three hours of the bite. Unfortunately it caused accelerated aging on the internal organs and half of the time drove people insane. Too much wormwood, Snape said.

Harry blinked, sure he was hallucinating when the greasy Potions master appeared in his cell. The apparition approached and Harry shrank back and snarled out of habit.

"Idiot boy. I seem to be making a habit of saving your sorry hide, Potter. Perhaps I should start charging you for all of the wasted effort."

Harry stayed still the second time the dark man approached, watching in bemusement as Snape examined the slice in his arm where the silver had been injected, the starburst scars on his chest where the Killing curses had rebounded, the obvious ribs. Snape flipped back his robe and started pulling miniature potion vials out of a compartmentalized pouch on his belt. He flicked his wand at each, resizing them.

Harry started trembling when he finally accepted that help had arrived. Snape noticed it and said nothing but he did add a light blue potion to the front of the line of bottles. Tears starting running down Harry's face.

"Don't be a woman," Snape said in his customary derisive drawl. He popped open the first bottle and held it up to Harry's mouth. The werewolf swallowed the liquid, but as soon as it hit his stomach he turned and vomited.

Snape frowned, taking out his wand to do a diagnostic scan then paused when the cell door creaked as it was pushed aside again. "About time you got here. Help me get these potions in him."

Harry lifted his head weakly and saw Fenrir striding across the cell. The relief he felt was so strong he nearly passed out on the spot but managed to stay conscious by sheer force of will. He wanted to say something, ask them why it had taken so long (that sounded ungrateful), whether they were wasting time and should be fleeing (that suggested they might be caught), where the others were (that implied they needed help) but it the end it didn't matter because he couldn't form a coherent word. He opened his mouth and howled at Greyback.

Snape flinched and covered his ears, not sure how the werewolf's more sensitive hearing could stand being so close to that awful sound. He was certain then and there that the boy's voicebox had been further damaged.

Fenrir ignored Snape and picked Harry up, holding him up with one arm and rubbing over his back to soothe the wracking shudders taking over the boy's body. He glanced down at the dozen or more bottles of potion waiting to be administered. "You can take care of that later." It wasn't a question; he walked out of the cell without waiting for Snape and headed for the elevators.

Harry had calmed down by the time the elevator arrived at the top floor of the Ministry. He was surprised to see Voldemort standing in the Atrium, gazing up at the ceiling as if looking for some cosmic answer written in the tiles.

"Ah, there is our wonder boy." He held out Harry's wand, which he had not seen since before his capture, and nodded toward a group of people surrounded by Death Eaters. "Here is your chance for revenge, Potter. The Ministry is finished … their laws no longer apply – this is your chance to return to them what they tried to do to you."

Harry took the wand, feeling the familiar warm rush of magic that had always reminded him of phoenix song. Still pressed tight to his alpha, he looked over at the gathered Ministry clerks, Aurors, and guards. Eventually he shook his head and offered the wand to Voldemort again.

The Dark Lord laughed. "Keep it, Potter. I had a feeling you wouldn't completely fall…. Such a shame, you could do great things … lock him up somewhere safe, Greyback, I do not want to be bothered to hear about Potter for at least a month."

Fenrir nodded and spun about, Apparating them away. Harry was relieved beyond thought to land right in their bedroom; he was already nude and collapsed into the bed with a loud sigh. Fenrir grinned and him and stripped down to his skin before joining his mate and curling around the too-slender werewolf.

Harry felt his panic and fear recede further and further with every minute he spent in contact with Fenrir. When Snape arrived some time later to diagnose and treat him, it was only the big werewolf's hand on his belly that allowed Harry to keep the potions down. Poppy Pomfrey stopped by briefly to spell the cut on his arm closed before giving him a kind smile and leaving to treat those wounded at the Ministry. One of the potions made Harry incredibly drowsy; he turned over and buried his face in the hair across Fenrir's chest before letting himself fall asleep.

Harry woke a long time later, if the angle of the sun outside the window was any indication. He'd slept either a full day or five minutes, and judging by how full his bladder was and the lack of Fenrir in the room, it had been a day. Shaking slightly, his muscles unused to much movement, Harry stumbled off the mattress and headed for the bathroom.

He realized when he came out of the bathroom that whatever potions Snape had given him were making him a little dizzy. Harry snapped his fingers for a house elf, not trusting his voice at the moment. He jumped in surprise when the creature appeared and immediately attached itself to his leg.

"D-Dobby?"

"Master Harry Potter!" Dobby cried, gazing up at Harry with watery eyes, "Dobby is so happy to see Harry Potter again!"

"You – what about … how did you get here?" Harry said, sitting on the edge of the bed when his knees refused to support him. Dobby danced around, pulling a blanket over him, bringing him a bathrobe and slippers, and fluffing his pillows as he talked.

"Mister Lupin came to find Dobby when Harry Potter had been taken away. Dobby had been getting the castle ready with other elves but when he heard about Harry Potter Dobby agrees to come here and help master Voldemort and master Greyback find Harry."

"Find – ? But they knew I was caught by the Ministry…."

Dobby nodded as he waved his hand and a tray with some plain foods and a large pitcher of juice appeared. "Dobby asked the same question, Harry Potter. Ministry has many places to hide a person, though, and records said you were being executed." He looked near tears for a moment. "But master Greyback said you were still alive … so master Voldemort decided time was right to take over the Ministry and find someone who knew where Harry Potter was." He placed the tray on Harry's knees. "And now Dobby is to take care of master Harry until he is healthy again."

Harry looked down at the food and pumpkin juice and nearly gagged. "Where is Fenrir?"

Dobby beetled his brows, "Master Greyback is in east library with mister Lupin. Master Harry!" Dobby cried, trying to catch the flying tray when Harry flung it away and paced to the door quickly.

The anxious elf cleared away the food with a snap of his fingers and followed after Harry, mindful of his orders to not let Harry out of his sight unless he was ordered by master Greyback or master Voldemort. He could tell Harry was still tired and probably should be in bed with the way his legs wobbled and he had to use the wall to support himself some of the time. Dobby was relieved that Harry went straight to the east library.

Harry was met at the door by Remus, who looked happy to see him but his scent was anxious.

"Harry, should you be out of bed?" Remus asked, hugging Harry close; he half considered Harry his cub and the past two weeks had been terrible. He jerked back in surprise when Harry shoved his arms away and staggered to the chair Fenrir was occupying.

"Harry…?" Remus asked softly as he followed more slowly and sat opposite Fenrir. The alpha was staring in bemusement at the huddle of shivering werewolf in his lap, obviously no more aware of the cause of Harry's behavior than Remus.

Fenrir spotted the elf hovering in the doorway and muttered, "Get Severus," as he was pulling Harry up against his shoulder. He didn't care so much about the reason as the fact that Harry was upset and he didn't need any additional stress when he was already sick. Fenrir cupped the back of his mate's head and reached for the lap blanket Remus had retrieved before wrapping Harry tight in the fabric and keeping him still with one arm.

After a while the tremors subsided and the tenseness flowed out of the younger werewolf's body. Fenrir moved his around enough to see Harry's face, reassured with the sleepy, content expression on his features. He caught sight of two new scars on the young man's chest and brushed aside the robe and blanket to see. Harry shivered when Fenrir placed a finger against the starburst on his left pectoral and made a small, uncomfortable sound.

"What spell did they use on you?" Fenrir asked. Harry opened his mouth to respond but only a ragged whisper emerged.

Snape swept into the room with a dark scowl as soon as he spotted Harry, "Potter, you are supposed to stay in bed. Madam Pomfrey has not had time to give you a full checkup and until she does … oh, nevermind, you never listen anyway. What is it this time?"

Harry pointed to his throat at the same time Fenrir said, "He had a panic attack a few minutes ago."

Harry looked none too pleased with that description but didn't try to say anything as Snape flicked his wand first at his throat then his head. A moment later a long strip of paper flew out of the tip and Snape frowned at it.

"You did have a panic attack; your heart rate was dangerously accelerated and unstable. What triggered it?"

Harry shrugged then changed his mind, pointing to Fenrir. When the dark Potions master turned the glare to him Greyback protested, "I did nothing, Snape. I came down here a few hours ago and have been here since; Harry was asleep when I left him."

Harry nodded emphatically to this and Snape raised an eyebrow. He stepped back a moment, crossing his arms and considering the young man, which eventually made Harry start to squirm uncomfortably.

"How many times did they try, Potter?" Snape asked almost gently, when Harry had become so uneasy he turned and huddled against Fenrir again. After a moment Harry held up three fingers and Snape sighed. "Fantastic. Unfortunately, his throat will have to heal on its own, there's too much silver still ingrained in his system for any potions to work against the damage. He many not be able to speak normally again. I will consult with Pomfrey on the panic attacks – in the meantime, Greyback, do not leave him alone unless you must. In which case, you should probably make sure he is sedated." Snape rubbed his nose with a huff of irritation, "This is going to put a hex in Lord Voldemort's plans for the school."

Harry glanced at him curiously.

"He hasn't been told?" Snape demanded.

"There wasn't time before the raid on the Weasleys was ordered," Remus said.

"Nevermind that now," Fenrir snapped at both of them. "When can Pomfrey see him?"

"Get him back to bed and I'll let her know he's awake," said Severus as he turned and headed for the door, "Get some food in him, too."

Dobby, who had been silently listening in the background, popped away at this order. Fenrir nodded for Remus to follow him and stood, lifting Harry with him. The smaller werewolf made a protesting sound, pointed to the ground with a slight frown, obviously asking to walk on his own.

"No," Greyback said without even a bit of softness in his voice. "You were practically falling down when you came down here – did you eat or drink anything earlier?"

Harry shook his head, making a gagging noise. He relaxed after a moment, peering over Fenrir's shoulder to smile at Remus. The older werewolf returned the smile but he was looking concerned again.

"Harry, what did Snape mean when he asked you earlier? Who tried what?"

Green eyes lowered for a moment before glancing at Fenrir. The alpha returned the glance, just as curious as Remus. They arrived at the bedroom before Harry could figure out how to answer them without his voice. He shrugged the bathrobe off his shoulders once Fenrir put him on the bed and pointed to the scars on his chest and then the one on his elbow.

Both older werewolves sniffed at the cut on his elbow and recoiled. It stunk of silver.

"So the order to execute wasn't a bluff," Remus said, taking the chair by the fire. "Is … that's what the scars are? They tried a spell, didn't they?"

Harry pointed to his forehead, then his chest and nodded.

Fenrir growled, swinging his fist against the bedpost, which snapped in half like a twig. "Twice!"

Harry nodded, looking away; Dobby popped into the room then with some food and the youngest werewolf turned green at the scent. Remus gasped, drawing everyone's attention, before he stood up and nudged Fenrir toward the bed.

"Sit with him, he won't be able to eat without you." said Remus, gesturing for Dobby to set the tray on the bed once Greyback, curious, had taken a seat beside Harry. He glanced at Lupin for an explanation.

"So you've figured this out, wise one?"

Remus nodded, "Harry's experiencing a magical and mental dependence. As Severus said, the Ministry tried three times to kill him, but it never worked. I'm guessing from your state yesterday that they also stopped feeding you," he watched as Harry shook his head with a sad look in his brown eyes, "or Coyote kept you from eating anything." When the dark-haired werewolf nodded, Remus finished. "Being a werewolf is the only thing that kept him alive … but he still wasn't safe. You need your pack close to keep it from happening again."

Fenrir frowned, "There's hardly any chance of danger again, now that the Ministry is destroyed."

"It may take a while for that to settle in," Remus said gently. "One of us should be with Harry at all times until he feels safe enough to move on his own."

Harry picked at the bread and cheese he had been given. He cleared his throat and whispered, "Sorry."

Fenrir stared at his bent head for a long time before he slid an arm around Harry and held him close briefly. "Eat. Remus will stay here, I need to speak with the Dark Lord."

Harry nodded but he was trembling again. Remus nodded to the stern glance Fenrir gave him and climbed onto the bed, surrounding Harry with his arms and legs. The shaking increased a moment when Greyback left the room and Remus started rocking him, "He'll be back, Harry. Try to relax, we're not leaving you, try to eat something more."

Harry nodded and kept at the roll but only managed to eat half of it and a bit of cheese before his stomach started rebelling and he had to stop. He put his head down and drifted in and out, trying to control his own anxiety and not having much luck even though it was better with Remus there. The man's scent was familiar and he didn't demand anything from Harry.

They both jerked to attention when someone knocked and opened the door quickly. Madam Pomfrey bustled in, smiling at two of her most-frequent patients since she had been assigned to Hogwarts, and brought her bag over to the bedside table.

"I understand there has been more damage to your voicebox, Harry?" she pulled out a vial and turned to find Harry visibly shaking and hiding his face against Remus' shoulder.

"Panic attack," the older man said, his own emotions affected by the wild swing of Harry's. He was both relieved and disappointed when Pomfrey immobilized Harry and gave him a calming potion forcefully. The younger werewolf went unconscious almost instantly.

"Poor dear," she sighed, before waving Remus away. "You can't be in contact with him for a diagnosis spell to work, Remus. This is his second attack?"

"Since waking an hour ago," he said. He watched as the nurse ran her wand over Harry, muttering spells, jotting something down on a parchment with her free hand. She tsked and muttered, barely sparing a glance at the door when Fenrir returned.

"He's gotten worse?" the alpha demanded when he saw Harry asleep and the medi-witch treating him. Remus nodded and joined the bigger man by the door.

"I can't stay with him for long; he barely ate and had another attack when Pomfrey arrived."

Fenrir turned a fierce amber glare on the shorter man, "I thought you said he would be fine as long as one of us was with him."

"He'll manage, but he won't feel safe. He needs you – you're his mate, you're the alpha. I know this isn't what you want to hear but Harry may need to go with you day and night for a while."

"Don't assume you know what I do and don't want," Greyback snapped. "What did she give him?"

"Just a calming potion, but she immobilized him to do it."

Greyback grunted, "Lord Voldemort wants to speak to you; I'll send an elf if you need to stay with Harry for any reason."

Remus nodded to his alpha's order and left without saying anything more. Pomfrey didn't pay any attention to Fenrir as she continued to work, leaving him to take the seat next to the fire and wait.

She glanced over her notes once more before Ennervating Harry. He was groggy for a moment before recognizing Pomfrey.

"Madam?"

"Hello again, Harry. I'm afraid Severus was right about the silver in your system, it will take some difficult treatment to flush it out and your voice will have to wait. In the meantime, you shouldn't be out of bed for more than a few hours, and don't tax yourself! Take it easy, no running and absolutely no spellwork. I'll be sending along nutritive potions and I've instructed the house elves on your meals … for now, try several small meals instead of larger portions. Sleep as often as you feel you need to and don't hesitate to call for me if anything else is needed. All right?"

He nodded but didn't look at her, trying once again to keep his emotions in check. When the medi-witch was packing up her things Harry felt the bed dip and jumped in alarm. He immediately relaxed to see Fenrir there, pulling back the blankets so he could slide both of them underneath.

Pomfrey gave them a small grin before she left a line of nutritive potions on the table and bustled out. Harry grimaced at the plate Fenrir picked up from the table but he could hardly protest when his mate started feeding him slices of apple and cheese. It made him nauseous again but this time Fenrir knew to hold his hand over Harry's stomach to soothe him once the plate was empty. The younger werewolf blinked up at him drowsily, hands reflexively clenching, still too pale and thin from his imprisonment.

Fenrir slid down in the bed and tugged Harry to lie on top of him; his mate made a satisfied sound and melted against his chest.



Harry stared at the classroom in front of him with something close to wonderment. He still had trouble believing he was going to be teaching Charms to a bunch of students, even if he had known about it for close to three months. In front of him a cluster of desks waited for his first class; the room was mostly bare, just the desks, his larger desk, boxes of supplies and a large blackboard in the front.

The first thing he had done once he learned the Charms position was his, was to learn a spell that would put words on the blackboard for him. His voice worked now, but he could barely speak above a whisper – it frustrated Harry to no end. The only ones he could talk to regularly were Remus and Fenrir whose sharp ears could pick up his low voice, and Voldemort, since Parseltongue didn't rely on his voicebox.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. His throat was sore at the moment and his arse was aching. He'd been nervous enough before to cause some accidental magic, so Fenrir had fucked him until he could barely think straight, much less worry about his classes. Harry knew he wouldn't be doing any sitting for a while and a tiny smile crossed his face at the thought.

He couldn't help the feelings he had toward Fenrir; the man had been unexpectedly patient with him, not batting an eye when Harry couldn't even let him out of sight to shower or attend meetings with the Dark Lord. Harry was much better now but he hated going long periods without seeing the alpha … already he was feeling a bit twitchy. It was nearing noon and his last sight of Fenrir had been after breakfast.

It had been the alpha's decision to have Remus assigned as the ambassador to werewolves for Lord Voldemort. Originally it had been Greyback's position but he had suggested Lupin instead and remained in the castle while the younger werewolf was sent across the country and to the larger werewolf communes on the Continent. Harry had tried asking why but whenever he did, Fenrir would just smirk, run a hand over the scar on Harry's shoulder, and put his thoughts to more pleasurable pursuits.

Harry forcefully reminded himself that his students would be arriving in a few minutes and this was not the time to be thinking about that. He was being started out with first-year students, Muggle-borns who had spent the last month going through orientation classes once they accepted the invitation to the school. His oldest students would be fifteen – once they took their O.W.L.s they would be considered graduates and could return to their homes or immediately get jobs. Only those who were good enough for Hogwarts would continue their education.

Most of the students already recognized Harry, as he had helped set up the dormitories and had arranged some of the orientation sessions, remembering what it was like to be a child entering the wizarding world without a clue as to the true depth and history. He had been upset to see some of the children were barely out of diapers … some of the first products of the altered Book of Names Saffric the Scribe had finished.

The Book identified all children powerful enough to be given an invitation to Hogwarts. The Muggle-borns' locations were pulled as soon as their names showed up in the book – that is, as soon as they manifested their magic in some way – and the children were taken from their families. They were oriented to their new world for a month or more, then sent to be fostered with a family that was at least half-magical until they were of age for school. Harry hated this part of Voldemort's plan but he could do nothing about it.

When he had confronted the Dark Lord, Voldemort had been surprisingly calm about it. Indeed, since the Ministry had been replaced with the Dark Order, Voldemort was almost always more content and slower to anger. He had looked at Harry and smiled in a weird way, then explained.

"This is the future I want, Harry. I never want to see a magical child grow up the way you or I did … and this is how that is going to be done. I don't need your agreement, nor your cooperation, so you can save your energy on protests. Remember that there was a time I would have gladly sent all Mudbloods right back to their creator … at least this way they will be allowed to live and learn magic. And you're going to teach them, of course. You're going to help mold them into the first-generation purebloods they could become…. Keep that in mind."

And Harry had. Voldemort's vision of the world wasn't as bad as he had once feared – oh, it was still full of prejudice and greater privilege for the wealthy and powerful, but it could have been much, much worse. Harry had realized that early on, and he knew he did have a chance to help these children learn magic so that they would know the true magic of being a wizard. If he had to turn his head and ignore some of the darker magic being taught at Hogwarts or what was happening to the small pockets of resistance in the larger world, he could do that for the sake of making the future better for these kids.

He even had an opportunity beyond that; Remus had sent several Muggle-born children back from Ireland and Germany who were too young to go to school, but they had been bitten by werewolves early in life. Fenrir had taken them into the small pack and it was as close as Harry would get to being a parent, even if the cubs were fostered to the entire pack … they were still cubs, he was still the alpha's mate, and it _was_ a chance to make a huge difference in their lives.

He was drawn out of his thoughts as the door opened and Fenrir stepped in, ushering his first class into the room. The big werewolf, ignoring the frightened looks some of the children were giving him, smirked at Harry and took a seat in the back.

His presence calmed Harry enough that he was able to take a deep breath and smile. He tapped the board with his wand.

_Wingardium Leviosa_

The Levitation Charm


	4. Epilogue

/As a quick author's note (though I hate these normally), the full version of Corruption can be found on my livejournal, link on my author's page. Happy reading./

When the bell rang, signaling the end of class, Harry quickly tapped the board before his students could flee.

_Half a meter of parchment on the everyday use of charms from chapters 4-6_

_Due Monday._

The students groaned in complaint but Harry ignored them, flicking his wand at the door so it unlocked and let them go. Most everyone left but three students walked up to his desk and waited. When Harry finished putting away the papers the class had turned in earlier, he pointed at the girl on the left, Marta.

"Professor, could you show me how to do the Water Charm again? I haven't been able to perform it correctly yet."

"Same with me," the boy in the middle, Braden, nodded and Harry glanced at the girl on the other end, Wendy, who agreed with her classmates.

Sighing silently, Harry shifted Jonas to his other arm and tapped the board.

_Repeat the incantation, one at a time._

Each student said, _'Aguamenti'_ carefully and without missing the correct inflection on the words. Harry nodded at them and put up an instruction to show him their wand movements. He leaned against the desk as Marta began flicking her wand in the required figure-eight motion, gently correctly the angle of her wrist when she got too enthusiastic with the charm.

It was another half hour before all three could correctly conjure water and Harry dismissed them, satisfied with their spellwork. He absently reached down and checked to see if Jonas was asleep. The four-year-old werewolf's eyes were still closed and his breathing even and light; he had been brought into the pack just a fortnight before when his parents were killed during the full moon and he was turned. The young boy was going through a rough period and was only just now adjusting but he didn't like to be away from a pack member for any time. As Remus was still in Portugal and Fenrir was not the most patient with young children, Jonas spent a great deal of time with Harry during the day. When Autumn or Chelsea, two of the female werewolves who lived on the castle grounds, were around Jonas went with them but they were in Diagon this week working. Harry didn't entirely trust the rest of the permanent pack members to take care of Jonas very well, especially when he was ill and drained from the full moon last night.

Harry stood with a slight wince in his back from carrying the boy around all day. He closed up the classroom and locked it since it was now almost dinner and he had no more classes today. He wanted a hot bath and something to eat, preferably not in the dining hall. All too often when he was there conversation turned into a debate over what to do with the wizards who were resisting Voldemort's rule. Harry hated listening to their ideas, much less having to make suggestions of his own. Unfortunately, as mentioned before, Voldemort was a sadistic bastard who liked to mentally torture the resident Golden Boy, so oftentimes Harry would be required to attend dinner with the others. He much preferred staying with the pack or even just in his own rooms but the choice wasn't always up to him.

Harry was headed for the pack room now, planning on letting Jonas stay with the older children who would be back from lessons by now. Most of the werewolves who lived at the castle had rooms in this one hallway, which ended in a large chamber they had converted to a meeting/gathering room. Harry opened the door quietly, smiling when he spotted the three youngest werewolves, aside from Jonas, sitting together around a tray one of the house elves must have brought. After the full moon they required more energy than normal and it wasn't unusual that they would need to eat an hour before dinner would be served. Harry walked over to their cushions, stepping silently over Carrus and Nathan, two older werewolves who were lounging and enjoying a day off.

"Hello, Harry," Brigitte said softly, scooting over so Harry could sit on one of the large cushions grouped under the window. "How'd he do today?"

Harry carefully unwound Jonas' arms from his neck before setting the boy down to sleep on the cushion next to him. "Slept." He reached for one of the elves' specialties, little meat pastries wrapped in tomato-flavored dough and glanced around. "Fenrir?"

"Alpha was here about an hour ago," said Brigitte, turning back to the dish along with her friends, Warner and Pascal who were more intent on their food than making conversation. "But I haven't seen him since."

Harry decided he could wait to find Fenrir; he really wanted a bath and more food right now. He nodded to Jonas and Brigitte grinned in understanding.

"We'll watch him tonight. Did he eat lunch?" Harry held his fingers close together to indicate it had only been a small meal and the young female clucked, "I'll make sure he eats enough for dinner; Autumn should be back in a few minutes anyway."

Harry stood and waved a little as he left, once again stepping over the snoozing males. Whenever any of the younger lycans were in the room at least one older male stayed with them, just in case. Since most of the older males in the pack patrolled the grounds and trained others in self-defense there was always one or two around to watch the young.

Up another flight of stairs Harry was relieved to reach his room; it was the same one he'd shared with Fenrir since arriving at the castle and despite the lack of luxury it was familiar and comfortable to him. He doubted he would have ever felt really welcome in a fancy room with expensive furnishings and decorations. Right as he entered the scent of his mate surrounded him and Harry involuntarily relaxed a little more.

Sniffing, he grinned and stripped off his clothes as he headed for the bathroom, ignoring the steamed mirror and fluffy towels in favor of the full pool covered with bubbles. He sank into the water carefully as the heat soaked into his legs and back; the pool was deep enough for him to stand upright and still be underwater so he stayed by the edge until he'd gotten used to the heat before sinking up to his neck.

He didn't startle when the water moved on its own and a soapy dark headed popped the surface. Fenrir's hard body slid against his as Harry grinned up at him. "Been waiting long?"

The larger werewolf didn't answer him but pressed Harry back against the side of the pool and soaped up his arms and legs before turning him around and washing his back then his chest. Harry was nearly boneless by the time Fenrir finished cleaning him, glad to float against his mate, limbs limp and soooo grateful for water that magically stayed hot.

When Fenrir bent his head to taste the skin along his shoulder Harry groaned, laying his head against the lip of the pool. He sighed and gasped with every mark Fenrir left on his skin, voice quickly rising to echo around the room as the older werewolf began to work over his body in earnest.

(Edited for Content)

Harry clung to his shoulders as the cleaning potions in the water whisked away any evidence of their desire with a light tingling sensation. He was relieved when Fenrir continued to hold him up against the wall; Harry wasn't sure he could have managed to stay afloat on his own. The bigger werewolf was licking his throat gently, a low, satisfied growl just barely audible as he cleaned away the blood from where he had bitten into the skin. Harry leaned his head back and smiled, knowing his alpha was pleased.

It hadn't taken long to figure out Fenrir liked to hear him scream, beg, moan … anything vocal. Harry very rarely spoke any longer and every sound he made for the bigger werewolf was 'his' as much as Harry himself was. Harry didn't mind, as everything his mate did to make him moan, beg, scream was very, very good.

He opened his eyes from the mild daze he had been in when Fenrir moved away and tugged Harry into the deeper water. The alpha picked up a small bottle as he tipped Harry's head back to wet his hair and started washing the black locks. The smaller male closed his eyes to let his mate clean his face and hair; he took a deep breath before Fenrir pushed him beneath the water to rinse off the soap. Harry didn't bother at all with hesitating or tensing up, he'd grown used to this when Fenrir had taken care of him last year and he knew the older werewolf wouldn't harm him, without a good reason for punishment.

He finally caught scent of the food when he was let up for air and took a deep breath.

"When…?"

Fenrir kissed his throat again and muttered, "Dobby, earlier."

A year or more ago, that news would have made Harry blush to the roots of his hair but now he didn't much care. He was too relaxed and too safe right now to worry about his own house elf seeing him being royally screwed in the bath. And it wasn't like Dobby hadn't popped in when they were shagging before; the strange elf probably knew more about their sex life than anyone else.

Harry floated to the side and waved his hand over the tray, dispelling the charm that kept the food fresh and at the right temperature for hours. Dobby, bless him, knew exactly what to bring Harry: lots of small foods, usually high in fat, and plenty of fresh butter for the hot bread. After a full moon he always needed the extra energy and if you listened to Remus or Fenrir, Harry was still too thin. In fact, food was the only thing the alpha male was willing to postpone sex for – so long as Harry ate.

It was definitely too good to last; Harry polished off more than half of the plate before resting his head against the tiles with a blissed-out sigh. He'd had his favorite foods, the bath was completely relaxing, Fenrir had rogered him good and proper … he knew there was a catch.

"What is it?" he asked, unable to keep the whine out of his voice. He opened one eye and narrowed it at the dark-haired man next to him. "What horrible thing are you buttering me up for?"

A smirk crossed the werewolf's face. "Lord Voldemort requests our presence tonight in the audience chamber."

"Not for dinner?" Harry asked, surprised. "Why?"

Fenrir reached over without looking and wrapped his palm over Harry's throat. He didn't like the younger male to strain his voice too often and even though it was easier to speak in the humid air, Harry decided not to argue. He waited for the answer.

"A few resistants were caught last night on Hogwarts' grounds; they're to be sentenced tonight."

Harry swallowed uneasily. That meant, of course, that he was going to be involved. Last time it had been a couple, no one Harry knew, who had been captured after poisoning several students by tampering with the food from the treat cart on the Hogwarts Express. Harry had been sympathetic to their reasons, but he couldn't condone their methods, especially when the poisons they used were so dangerous. Three first-years had been under treatment for nearly a month … when he'd asked the couple why they hadn't attacked Death Eaters, people who had actually done something wrong, they'd had no answer.

Of course, that might have been because they didn't know who he was and assumed Harry was just another Death Eater. Still, he'd tried to convince Voldemort for a lighter sentence – make them live as Muggles, make them work for Goblins or on a dragon reservation. The Dark Lord had laughed at him and then imprisoned the couple with nothing to eat but their own tainted candies.

Harry knew it was going to be worse this time simply by the treatment Fenrir was giving him now. He pulled the man's hand from his throat and moved to stand in front of him, toes barely touching the bottom of the pool.

"Who?"

"Dean Thomas, Hermione Granger, two Creeveys and the younger Mrs. Weasley."

Harry shivered and didn't try to say anything more. Fenrir muttered something under his breath and tipped Harry's face up.

"Be careful tonight. There's a chance Lord Voldemort might let the Granger girl live, he's heard from you and others how intelligent and resourceful she is. Don't concentrate on the rest."

Harry nodded slightly. He was relieved when Dobby popped back in and broke the heavy silence. The elf looked approvingly at the empty tray as he picked it up and placed another down.

"Master Harry, Dobby is being sent when Master Voldemort is calling for you, once dinner is over."

"Thank you," Harry whispered, conserving his voice now. He knew he'd be using it later.

The elf bobbed and grinned before disappearing with the empty tray. In its place he'd left a plate of bite-sized desserts that Harry started inhaling and Fenrir ignored. He detested sweets.

Harry was in the middle of enjoying a delicious slice of baked apple when Fenrir slid behind him and wrapped his arms around the slender young man. Harry licked his fingers clean and titled his face up, frowning when his mate placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"You'll still taste like sugar," Fenrir murmured, putting his hands on the tile in front of Harry and leaning forward. His hard cock brushed against the taught curve of Harry's arse then slid between as he rocked his hips slightly. Harry dipped a finger into the tiramisu on the plate and sucked it clean, then offered a second dip to Fenrir.

"Try it," he insisted, when the older werewolf grunted and refused to taste the white-and-brown dessert.

Rolling his eyes, he pulled Harry's digit into his mouth and licked. Fenrir raised an eyebrow, considering the creamy taste and slightly bitter flavor.

"Like it?" Harry asked smugly. He yelped in surprise when he was spun around and fain tossed onto the ledge. He gaped at Fenrir as the man tugged him to the edge of the pool and threw his calves over his shoulders.

"Much too sweet," he growled, then bent his head and licked a stripe up Harry's prick.

"Oh, shit. Fen– fucking hell!" Harry cried out as his mate's mouth sank down over his cock, scalding hot, making his hips jerk involuntarily. In an instant his hands were in the older werewolf's hair as he tried to keep from coming too soon. Fenrir didn't let him hold back, lightly squeezing his balls and sliding one then two fingers into his hole. Harry arched back with a particularly vicious jab against his prostate and came with a scream, shuddering into the tight suction around his cock.

He drifted in a daze for long minutes, aware only blearily that splendid mouth had moved to his thighs and hips. When teeth began to get involved he stirred, propping himself up on his elbows and blinking at the hungry lycan standing between his legs. There were faint teeth marks from his navel to his knees, bright red against tan skin and the darker bruises that had been there longer.

He wiggled his toes against Fenrir's back, "Enjoy your dessert?"

He melted again at the growl this produced, offering no struggle as he was pulled back into the water, facing the wall. The broad chest pressed against his back vibrated with the alpha's words.

"I'm not finished with my dessert yet, Coyote."

Harry knew that tone of voice; he started panting almost immediately and spread his thighs.

(Edited for content)

"Master Harry! Master Greyback!" Dobby popped into the room, looking worried. "You's is going to be late! Master Lord Voldemort is calling meeting now!"

Fenrir snarled at the elf and Dobby cowered.

"But Masters, is time, you must be in audience chamber for Master Voldemort…."

Harry gasped and shuddered, trying to get his breath back even as he shakily found a foothold and pulled slightly away from Fenrir. His mate pulled free of his body and snapped at Dobby to get their clothes ready as he moved to the other side of the bath, growling low in his throat. Harry climbed out of the water, arms shaking and still hard as a rock. Before he could think about stroking himself to completion Dobby returned and with a snap of his fingers Harry was dry and ready to dress.

The elf did not dare to do the same to Fenrir when he climbed from the bath, setting his robes to the side and scurrying out. They both pulled on their clothes quickly, heading toward the door to get their shoes. One hand on the doorknob, Fenrir reached over and grasped Harry's cock and balls through his trousers.

"As soon as this is over I want you on your hands and knees for me."

Harry nodded, his prick hardening all over again from where he had begun to go soft. Fenrir shifted his grip to Harry's arm and dragged him down the hall and the stairs.

Guards were posted outside the audience chamber. A few Death Eaters had gathered but were not entering, either waiting or not allowed; Harry and Fenrir brushed past the guards and through the doors without pausing.

Voldemort, sitting with a satisfied laziness on his throne, looked up at their entrance and smiled. Harry hated that smile, the one full of sharp teeth, that he knew meant something he really, really didn't like was about to happen. He focused instead on the others in the room, a surprising small number.

Snape and Malfoy were there, of course. They were essentially Voldemort's hands, keeping the others in line and performing any important task for the Dark Lord; only Wormtail and Rodolfus Lestrange were in the room besides, standing before the throne and apparently making their report.

"Ah, my most loyal werewolves … We have secured a great prize today and it is time we celebrated. Fenrir, you will remain here with me, I have plans you must discuss with Lucius. Severus, take Mr. Potter down to see our guests." He waited until Harry and Snape were almost at the door before calling out. "Oh, and Harry? Remember that your former friends' future depends on their behavior tonight … see that they are not disrespectful to me."

Harry gave him a little sneer which only made the Dark Lord laugh and turn back to the others. Harry repressed the need to vomit at the man's hissing laughter, a sound that made his skin crawl for the sick pleasure in it.

Harry glanced at Snape and found him unusually silent. Normally by this time the dark Potions Master would have made some disparaging remark on Harry's clothes or his attitude, or anything really. In fact, it wasn't until they'd reached the holding cells, which had been built into the same pool where Harry had once been staked, that Snape gave him any attention.

"Potter. I am only going to say this once, and if you ever repeat it, Greyback will not be able to so much as find a piece of you when I'm through. The Creevy's and Mr. Thomas are going to die tonight. There is still a chance for Miss Granger and Miss Delacour if they impress Lord Voldemort. Miss Granger is … a capable witch, despite being too sure of herself and her books. If you can manage to convince her and the French girl not to make themselves look like idiots, they will have a good chance of surviving and becoming productive members of society. If you would like to see either of them greet another dawn, I would suggest you impress upon them the seriousness of the situation."

Harry just stared at Snape, not sure he could manage such a thing. "What were they caught doing?"

Snape led him down the sloping pool floor to where a dozen cells had been magiked into the abandoned pool. "They were caught on the grounds attempting to break into a lower level entrance of the school. From the devices they were carrying and the stories we extracted with Veritaserum, they were planning on destabilizing the entire castle and contaminating the water supply."

Harry considered it, "No actual harm would have come to the students?"

"Aside from a little sickness, no." They had come to the end of the pool, past two guards, where a single large cage held the four former Gryffindors and Fleur. Snape took Harry's wand and told him, "You have a half hour, Potter."

At the sound of Snape's voice the five inside looked up from where they had been sitting together, staring at the floor. When Snape called him 'Potter' all eyes drew to the slim young man who was entering their cell as Snape locked it once again. They hadn't recognized him at first: Harry had grown much taller, he was over six feet now, and with his hair long and tucked behind his ears, it was difficult to compare him to the Boy-Who-Lived. The lightning scar was almost gone, he had gained a lot of muscle from the werewolf bite, and his face had matured.

"Harry!" Dean sat up, then stood, striding over to his former dormmate. "What – we haven't heard about you since …"

"Since last year," Fleur said, accent much softer now. "Why 'ave you come, Harry?"

He looked between Dean, the small Creevy brothers, and the two women. With a deep breath, he explained, "I'm here to offer you a second chance. There is a possibility that you might be spared, if you can learn to obey Lord Voldemort." They all leaned forward to hear his soft voice as he strained to be loud enough.

There was silence in the cell for long moments before Hermione spoke up, her voice soft and sad, "Are you one of his servants then, Harry?"

"Actually, I'm not," he drew aside his cloak to reveal his bare arm, still unMarked after all this time. "But I am a werewolf, and my mate is loyal to the Dark Lord … I've been able to convince him to let the Muggleborns live, they have their own school, where I teach. It's something I can live with."

Tears filled the young woman's eyes and she stood, coming over to gently hug him. "Oh, Harry, I thought … I thought you had really joined him…."

He awkwardly patted her shoulder but stepped away as soon as it was possible, rubbing his shoulder where his Turning scar was twinging uncomfortably. Coyote didn't like to be that close to anyone but his mate. He looked around at everyone and took another breath, "I know this is going against what you believe, but there are only two choices right now. You can be killed or you can accept that Voldemort is going to rule over the wizarding world and try to live in it. I can guarantee you won't like parts of it, but it's not as bad as you might think."

Fleur was the first to speak, frowning at him, "Why did you bite my husband? The Ministry tried to cure him but he went mad, he disappeared months ago. I know it was you that night, the Weasleys saw you."

Harry nodded, "It was me, I was also the one who bit Arthur. I was being punished for … for something I said to Voldemort, and he wanted to get rid of the Weasleys. That was my punishment." He saw her nod and asked, hesitantly, "Where is Ron? What happened to the others?"

Hermione put a hand to her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a sob. "He was killed, Harry. There was a raid on the village while he was there with Ginny and Ron was murdered … it happened right after the wedding, he was going with her to check your family's house – "

"Those people were never my family," said Harry, softly but firmly. "I'm sorry about Ron, though. What happened to everyone else?"

Hermione wiped away a tear, "Mrs. Weasley and the twins moved to someplace in the United States, New England I think … they couldn't stay here after Ron, Ginny, Bill, and then Mr. Weasley died. Percy, well I suppose you know Percy didn't fight the takeover; he's still working at the Ministry. That's everyone."

"No, what about Charlie?" Harry said, surprised when Hermione gave him a strange look.

"Who's Charlie?"

Harry blinked at her but Fleur answered. "He left as well, Harry. He went back to his dragons, far away from this war. He Obliviated all of them, except for me. He didn't want any of them contacting him or trying to follow, he couldn't stand it. I believe he's still there."

He nodded after a moment, less affected than he had thought to hear of the Weasley's tragedies. After all, he had known what happened to Ginny, Bill and Arthur, or at least guessed about the men. Except for Ron, he had never been particularly close to any of the others, and he had suspected something happened to Ron when he'd heard nothing of the redhead for over a year now.

"Listen, we don't have a lot of time. Snape's going to be back soon and you're going to go in front of Voldemort. You have to decide now how you want things to go."

"What kind of choice is that?" Colin piped up suddenly, "Of course we don't want to die, but how can you, can any of us live under that monster's thumb?"

"It's not as bad as you think," Harry insisted. "Muggle-born wizards are still allowed jobs, allowed to use magic, they're just not considered high-class. They go to a different school, but they're still taught magic. Voldemort isn't keen on Muggle-borns but he's not trying to exterminate them."

"And what about the rest?" Dean demanded. "We've heard that any kid who shows signs of magic is being taken from their homes. Even babies!"

"That is true," Harry gritted his teeth, "and I don't like it, but it's a necessary evil. Look, not too long ago Voldemort was going to have any magical child killed if they weren't from a magical family. At least they're allowed to live this way."

"But Harry," Hermione protested, "you're – I mean, you're the one who was supposed to have the power to defeat Voldemort! Don't you have your wand? There must be some way you – "

"I can't," Harry said, pointe-blank. "There are a number of reasons, but they're not important right now. Hermione, not everything has changed! Think of it, you could be a teacher, you could help Muggleborn students excel so they can have a chance at being educated at Hogwarts."

She crossed her arms, looking stubborn. "I want to know your reasons."

Harry looked at the others for help but they seemed just as determined as Hermione. He ran a hand through his hair, growling. "I can't Hermione! Have you ever been in his presence? Voldemort isn't just a powerful wizard, he's incredibly talented and he knows more curses and Dark Arts than half of his Death Eaters put together. I wouldn't stand a chance against him!"

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't try!" Hermione snapped. "You would rather submit to his twisted design than fight for what you believe in? Harry, think of your mother!"

"I have," he said, turning to her again. "I've thought of what she did for me … she died so that I would live, not so that I would throw my life away without making any difference. If she had been born now, she would be at school, and knowing her, she'd have gotten to Hogwarts eventually. It's not perfect, Hermione, but nothing ever is."

Fleur stood, brushing off the pants she was wearing. She leveled a dark look at him, "I lost my husband, my father-in-law and my sister-in-law because of you. I do not believe Muggle-borns are in any way inferior to purebloods, and I never will."

Dean backed away from Harry, "I agree with Fleur. I'd rather leave the wizarding world and my magic than obey Voldemort."

Colin and Dennis silently nodded. Harry turned back to Hermione. She was considering him carefully, apparently trying to find the best words for her own decision.

"Tell me one thing, Harry, and I'll answer. If there were a way, if you could do one thing and destroy Voldemort forever, would you do it? Would you kill him and help us destroy the other Death Eaters?"

Harry stared, "There is nothing – "

"Just answer, okay? If there was one thing you could do, would you?"

Harry shook his head at her, "No. Getting rid of Voldemort would not solve the problem. Maybe I would consider it if there were a way to get rid of him along with all the Death Eaters, but that is impossible."

"But it would be a start," she said, taking a step closer to him. "Harry, we're not alone. There are others still out there – Oliver Wood, Lee Jordan, Ministry workers who survived the attack, even Aurors and Unspeakables! Moody is just waiting for an opportunity, Harry. And we can provide that, if you help us."

"Hermione – "

"No, let me finish," she insisted. "We can do it, Harry. We can return those Muggleborn students to their families, we can get the others a real education in Hogwarts. We'll be able to destroy the Death Eaters and their pureblood allies. It can all be better … we just need you to get close to Voldemort." She held out her hand, concentrating, and a silver dagger appeared, glistening with some oily substance.

"What – ?"

"We've been working on it for months," she whispered urgently. "It's a potion that will suppress a person's power for over an hour. That's long enough to kill him, Harry. If you do that, we can take care of some of the others. It would be a great start, Harry. Your mother would be proud."

He stared at the knife in her hand, mesmerized for a long moment. He glanced from Hermione's fervent eyes to Fleur, Dean, Colin and Dennis, knowing they would all die if they attempted this, even if they did take a few Death Eaters out with them. He finally turned back to Hermione, staring into her soft brown eyes.

"I won't." He whispered, just strong enough for them to hear. "You would throw us into another war, kill hundreds more … I won't allow that."

Her face twisted for just an instant as her arm shot out, hand gripping the handle of the dagger, aiming for his ribs. Harry felt the tearing pain as it sunk into his chest and a throb vibrated through his body … the potion, no doubt. The others cried out, shocked, and Colin took a halting step forward. Harry's hand automatically came up to grab her arm as she stared at him triumphantly. Breathing through the pain, he squeezed her arm until he felt her grip slacken, until the bones creaked, until they snapped.

"Werewolves heal very fast," He gasped, yanking out the knife. "And you were about three inches too low to stab my heart." He turned the knife around and sank it into her stomach. Hermione screamed and dropped to the floor, huddling in a fetal position. Harry held a hand over his wound, stepping back until he was against the wall of the cell, feeling dizzy as his magic ground to a halt. "MacNair!"

A moment later the Death Eater walked over, sneering, to see what had happened. He might despise Potter and want to kill the little shit, but he wasn't stupid. The big werewolf would tear him limb from limb, slowly, if he even attempted to harm his brat. So, disgusted, he opened the door to let Potter stumble out before slamming it closed again.

Harry made it halfway back to the castle before Snape appeared, apparently coming to collect him now that the half-hour was up. He took one look at the bleeding werewolf and pointed him back toward the imposing doors, "Wait in the audience chamber, I will return with the prisoners and a potion for you. Who was it?"

"Granger," Harry said, then gasped. She must have punctured his lung.

Snape merely nodded, waving him on before he turned and continued toward the cells. Harry braced himself before entering the audience chamber, glad his wound had already closed a little and had almost stopped bleeding.

As soon as the door opened and he stepped in Fenrir was out of his chair and striding toward Harry with a dark look on his face. Harry let him examine the wound, saying nothing to the curious glance Voldemort and the others now in the room were giving them. Finally Fenrir seemed satisfied Harry was not about to expire on the spot and, picking Harry up, sat down once more, this time with the younger werewolf draped across his lap.

"_Tell me how it went,"_ Voldemort hissed, rising from his throne to stand in front of the two werewolves. Other Death Eaters had gathered, some Harry knew, but they remained on the edges of the chamber.

Harry shifted against Fenrir, his chest beginning to ache, _"Not well, they are dedicated as far as I saw. They're carrying a potion somewhere on their persons that can suppress a person's power for an hour… it was on the blade of a dagger Granger conjured."_

"_Wandlessly? Such a shame, such a waste,"_ the older man hissed, bending slightly and placing his hand over the wound, ignoring the low growl this got from Greyback. With a sharp scratching sensation Harry felt the wound stitch together and close. His lung still ached, though. _"Severus will bring you a potion, you will heal too slowly otherwise, without your magic to help you along."_ The dark wizard stepped back for a moment, considering the pair. _"I am to understand this summons interrupted you at a rather inconvenient time, Potter. Is that true?"_

Harry reluctantly nodded. It wasn't that he cared if anyone knew what he and Fenrir did together, but the very idea of Voldemort thinking about their sex life ….

"I shall make it up to you both, I think. It would do well for both you and your former comrades to understand that there is no turning back." He glanced up at Fenrir and nodded significantly before turning to seat himself again.

Harry didn't want to contemplate that – Voldemort's punishments and rewards were both rather sadistic. He turned over to lean closer to Fenrir, relieved when his mate held him tight against his chest, one hand heavy on his hip.

In only a few moments Snape returned, along with several guards and the five prisoners. Hermione was being led but when they came to a stop the Death Eater let go of her and she hunched over again. Leaving them to stand in the middle of the room, Snape approached Harry and gave him a light blue potion he recognized as a general healing draught. He took it without complaint and heaved a mental sigh when the dull throbbing in his chest faded almost completely. He was able to sit up when Fenrir urged him, turning to sit forward, watching the five prisoners without meeting any of their gazes.

Lucius Malfoy stood beside Voldemort's throne, speaking for him. "Here we see five wizards, four of them Mudbloods, who have seen error in our world and sought to correct it by violence and unrest. They had committed no crime before this offense and would have been allowed to live unassaulted in the wizarding world, despite their low birth."

Malfoy continued to talk, but Harry ceased to listen. He had heard these accusations before, and knew what would happen next; aside from that, his concentration was wavering as Fenrir, apparently as bored as he, started nibbling on his neck and ear. Harry shifted uneasily, aware since he had returned from the cells that Fenrir was hard as steel beneath him and cared nothing for their audience. Oh, god, is that what Voldemort had meant –?

Harry struggled to resist for the first time in a year as Fenrir's hands made their way across his back and chest under the robe he wore. He didn't want this, not like this, not now…. But it was nearly impossible to ignore the pull of his own body and the demands of his mate. He realized it, he hated it at the moment, but he knew struggling would do no good. Biting his lip, he resolved to be silent if nothing else.

Malfoy kept up his speech as the prisoner's wands were snapped in front of them, all of them shivering as it was done. Hermione seemed to be losing lucidity as she swayed and gazed around, half-aware while her gut continued to bleed steadily.

With a whispered spell, Harry's pants were gone, leaving him covered from neck to knees in his robe but exposed when Fenrir slid the back of the robe aside to let his mate feel him through his pants. Harry tossed his head back, giving the older male access to his throat and the bite scar, his body already thrumming with want. He could feel his body opening, preparing for his mate and master, and obeyed without a second's hesitation when Fenrir ordered him in a murmur, "Lift yourself on the arms, Coy."

(Edited for content)

Across the room, Dean glared at the masked Death Eater in front of him and said nothing, keeping in the front of his mind the friends he had lost and his own family as a curse was aimed at him. Dennis, standing next to the dark-skinned boy, firmed his chin and fought the urge to cry. He could only reassure himself that the afterlife had to be better than this, and after all, he would be with his brother and father again.

Colin Creevy was having doubts. He self-admitted that he was a follower, and he always had been. He'd followed the ideals he was taught at school, without giving their basis a second glance. But now he looked from the man in front of him, holding his life at the end of a wand, to his brother and Dean, facing similar death … Hermione lay on the floor in a pool of blood, unconscious and allowed to die without the quick release of an Avada Kedavra. Fleur had turned … she stood now swearing her loyalty and future to the Dark Lord. And Colin had no one left to follow.

He might have tried to follow his first savior, Harry Potter, but that man had no attention for him now. He was across the room, sitting on a werewolf's lap, his face screwed up in pleasure as he was fucked in a room full of people who seemed to think nothing of it. True, there were no private bits exposed, they weren't making a sound, but from the movement, from their expressions Colin could tell they were having sex, and Harry wasn't fighting.

Colin saw a green flash of light out of the corner of his eye and gulped. This could not be happening. Where had they gone wrong? There was so much happiness in his first years at Hogwarts, so much enjoyment … even when trouble had come along, it never stayed. How had he come to being killed by a fellow wizard for trying to better their world? Why hadn't things gone better? Could he have done –

The Death Eaters turned back to their Lord as the last resistant fell to the green curse and the bodies were levitated out. Fleur, still shaky from the Veritaserum, was led away through a side door for an antidote and rest. When everything had been settled and the rest of the Dark Order released, Voldemort stood and walked over to the two werewolves. Fenrir glanced warily at him, both arms still cradling the limp body on his lap.

"Good show, Potter," the Dark Lord murmured, smirking when Harry ignored him in favor of blinking sleepily at the ceiling. He glanced at the older werewolf and said, "The last of the vigilantes are being rounded up as we speak, Delacour was quite informative. We are no longer at war."

He turned and left, leaving Harry to watch his alpha in curiosity. "What did he mean by that?"

Fenrir grinned at him and pulled the robe off his mate, pleased when the cool air made his nipples stand at attention. He plucked at them casually until Harry was twisting and shivering again.

"Fen … rir?" Harry fought to keep his concentration on the words and not on the stiffening prick in his arse. "What did – ahhh … what did he mean?"

(Edited for content)

Fenrir pulled the robe off the edge of the chair and wrapped it around his limp mate, careful not to put pressure on the pink knife wound. He lifted Harry enough for the slender werewolf to wrap his long legs around Fenrir's waist before leaving the room. "What did I tell you I wanted once the audience was over?"

Harry put his head down, groaning, "Give me a moment, please."

Fenrir just smirked at him and pushed through the door to their room, letting Harry slide to the floor and stand on his own. Without hesitation Harry went to his knees and started to unfasten his mate's trousers. Fenrir let him, pulling off his outer robe and the cashmere shirt he wore, sighing as Harry lowered further to tug his boots off.

"Hands and knees, Coyote."

Harry moved into position with a soft moan, loving the sound of his mate's commanding voice. After three intense orgasms that afternoon he wasn't able to get hard yet but he was still enjoying every moment. Fenrir kneeled behind him and nudged his knees further apart before bending to bite the lovely round arse before him.

Harry bit his lip to keep from crying out but when the older male's agile tongue swept over his hole he screamed.

"That's it, Coy." Fenrir's fingers dug into his hips, coaxing more cries from his mate with every stroke of his tongue. Perfect.

Morning came much too soon. A werewolf's hearing was incredible which often meant they did not sleep well because of the constant sounds, especially in this place where there was always someone awake and moving about. Fenrir ignored the sounds, despite the ever-increasing volume, having adapted quickly to only respond to noises that indicated anything which would affect him directly.

He knew instantly when trouble arrived. The majority of the pack had been moving about one floor below, getting ready, aided sometimes by Death Eaters. When Jonas woke, though, he started crying and it was at this point that Harry began to stir.

A light knock sounded at their door; Harry growled in his sleep and twisted closer to Fenrir. After a pause the portal opened and the tall form of Lord Voldemort walked in, smirking at the two werewolves.

"I have been informed by Lupin that preparations are nearly complete, Fenrir. I still expect monthly reports, in addition to any pertinent news. And Potter will continue teaching."

Fenrir nodded, shifting the blanket so it covered Harry's shoulders. His mate would sleep longer if he was warm. "The wards at the Chalet?"

"I have looked over them personally, they will hold against any unwelcome intrusion." The sound of Jonas' crying died out when Autumn arrived and Harry relaxed back into deep slumber against Fenrir's shoulder. "And of course, you will return for the occasional dinner with young Potter."

"Agreed," said Fenrir, closing his eyes again. Voldemort chuckled and left, shutting the door with a sharp snap behind him.

Harry shifted at the sound, half waking. He rubbed his head against Fenrir's shoulder and reached across his chest. "Mmm?"

"Sleep," Fenrir ordered, brushing a hand over the messy black hair until Harry's body relaxed once more and his arm went lax. Fenrir slid into a light doze, enjoying the slowly decreasing sounds from below, the warm weight of his mate, and the knowledge that soon they would be home.

He woke fully when Harry turned away and got up, padding silently toward the bathroom. Resigned, Fenrir sat up slightly and leaned against the headboard, waiting for his mate and the inevitable questions.

He was distracted when Harry returned, naked and flushed with warmth still, and crawled onto the bed. He slid up Fenrir's body, green eyes half-lidded. "Morning."

Fenrir met his lips halfway, drinking in the soft moan as he mapped the younger werewolf's mouth thoroughly. When he was released Harry slumped against his chest.

"What's going on today?"

Fenrir pulled the blanket up again and wrapped it around the slender shoulders before he began to shiver. "The war is over … Lord Voldemort no longer requires our constant presence and service. We have been released."

Harry turned his face up, frowning a little, "Was he here, earlier? I thought I was dreaming…."

"Dreaming of Voldemort in your bedroom, hm?" Fenrir mocked, smirking when that got a revolted shiver from his mate. "He was here to settle everything. You can continue to teach but the pack is returning to the chalet Voldemort gifted us with during the first war."

"So we're leaving the castle for good?" Harry asked, uncertain whether to be happy yet. He would love to be free of the constant heavy presence of Death Eaters around every corner, but he knew there had to be some conditions.

"We are going home," Fenrir said, smoothing a hand down Harry's back, "but you and I will return to report once a month and probably every other week for dinner. Otherwise, we will be spending all of our time at Crescent Chalet."

Harry sighed, closing his eyes in relief. "Home."


End file.
